Stuck
by foreveravalon
Summary: House and Cameron are stuck together in an elevator when the power goes out.
1. Chapter 1

The power went out with a groan, and the elevator stopped suddenly, sending its occupants stumbling. Dr. House and Dr. Cameron were plunged into darkness for a minute before the auxiliary lights came on. The two doctors could barely make each other out in the soft blue light, which did little to dispel the shadows.

House let out a long string of curses - the stumbling made the pain in his right leg flare. He leaned against the back elevator doors and gripped his right thigh.

Cameron frantically pressed the third floor button.

House dry swallowed another Vicodin, and then let out a long suffering sigh. "I don't think pressing the button a hundred times is helping. Why don't you try the door open button?"

Cameron shot him a dark look, "And what, you'll crawl out of here? We're not even on the third floor yet." She pressed the button anyway, several times for good measure, "That's not working either." House shrugged and started to pace. A few more minutes and the Vicodin would kick in and dull the pain from inferno to slow burn.

Cameron slipped her fingers in between the elevator doors and struggled in vain to force them open. After several failed attempts, she stepped back let out a frustrated yell.

House looked over at her with his eyebrows raised, "You could barely open a jar of pickles with those matchstick arms, and you thought you could force steel elevator doors to open?"

Cameron clenched her jaw, "Well I figured it was better than doing nothing, like you. Go ahead, He-Man, you try to open it."

"I'm crippled." He said, waving his cane.

"You're leg is crippled, not your arms." Cameron snarked back and House had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He limped over towards the door as if he were actually going to try, but then turned and pressed the emergency call button with the end of his cane.

"Hello?" A raspy male voice came over the sketchy connection, "Do you need help?"

"No, I'm trying to order a happy meal. Yes I'm calling for help!"

"How can we assist you?" The voice replied, heavily laced with sarcasm.

"We're on elevator 5, stuck just below level three."

"Is this Dr. House?" The voice asked, and House sighed.

"Yes, this is Dr. House, you know, Department Head of Diagnostics? Now send your worker drones up here to get us out."

"Sure thing, Dr. House. That was Elevator 7, near the 5th floor?" The voice said, and then the connection cut out completely.

"Damn it!" House yelled, "Goddamned imbecile! I clearly said Elevator 5 on level 3!"

"I'm fairly sure they're leaving you stuck in here on purpose - probably because you were a giant ass!" Cameron said bitterly, and walked over to the opposite side of the elevator. She slid down to sit, and put her head in her hands. House paced the elevator, back and forth, back and forth, trying to think of a way out.

"The power has to come back on soon." House reasoned as he paced. Cameron muttered something unintelligible and angry into her hands.

"Why so upset, Cameron?" House demanded, "This must be a dream come true for you. The two of us, stuck in an elevator. Just think of the possibilities!"

Cameron looked up and glared at him, "Oh, it is. Watching you pace back and forth, grumbling under your breath, alienating any help that may have come for us - how can I contain my excitement?"

House raised his eyebrows, "What, you never had a quickie in an elevator before?" His laser blue eyes held hers, and then slid down over her pink scrubs. Cameron felt her heart skip a beat. Was he just messing with her? Of course he was. He always did this - threw out some sexual innuendo, gave her that fuck me stare, and then ran away whenever things got real.

Well, there was nowhere to run in this elevator, now was there? Cameron stood slowly, her green eyes holding his. She walked over to where he was leaning on his cane and licked her lips. House's eyes stayed on her lips for a second, mesmerized.

"I don't do quickies…I prefer to take my time, do things right." She said, her voice low and hypnotic. Cameron stared at his lips - perfectly sculpted, full and oh so warm. She remembered how it felt to kiss him, the way his lips slid in-between hers, the way his tongue found his way into her mouth...

House backed up a step, "Don't you have a boyfriend now, Dr. Cameron? The wombat wouldn't be too happy to know you're trying to seduce me in an elevator."

Cameron closed the distance between them again, and ran one hand over his shoulder and down his right arm. "You weren't very concerned about Chase when you fired him."

House tried to keep his cool, but that was becoming more and more difficult every minute. Cameron's perfume was heady, a mix of vanilla and honeysuckle. Her eyes had something different in them today, a daring that hadn't been there before, even with that kiss last year, "I could care less about the wombat..." Words failed him when she licked her lips again, and ran her hand over his.

Cameron leaned forward until their lips were a breath apart. Just one slight adjustment and they would meet. But she wanted him to meet her lips this time; she wanted him to come to her. She heard him swallow, watched as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. His left hand slipped into her lab coat pocket, and she looked down, confused. He pulled his hand out with nothing in it.

"Just checking for needles. I know how you like to kiss and stab." He quirked his right eyebrow and Cameron felt blood rush to her cheeks. He always knew just what to say to make her feel foolish. Well it wasn't going to work this time. He wasn't going to stop this with a few witty retorts. Cameron stood on her tip toes, and brushed her lips against his left cheek, enjoying the feel of his stubble running across her sensitive mouth. Putting her hands on his well muscled shoulders, she continued until she reached his ear. She blew softly into the canal, and felt him shudder under her hands, heard his breath rush out of his lungs.

Smiling to herself, she brushed her lips here, there, down his neck, stopping over his rapid pulse. She licked the spot with a flick of her tongue, and then bit down with her teeth - just hard enough to leave a shallow imprint of her teeth. House let out a soft low moan, and the sound of it tightened her abdomen, and made her muscles below flitter with excitement. She pressed the front of her body against his, crushing her small firm breasts against his hard chest, and whispered in his ear, "Just shut up, House, and enjoy this."

She stepped back and looked into his eyes. His pupils were dilated slightly, and his lids had lowered slightly. He was looking with hooded consideration, like he was curious about this bold woman in front of him. Cameron pulled her lab coat off slowly, and let it fall to the floor of the elevator. House leaned back against the elevator wall, as if he couldn't trust his legs and cane to keep him upright anymore. His blue eyes ran over her lithe form, hesitating over her breasts and hips. Cameron grabbed the bottom of her pink scrubs top, and pulled it off slowly. Underneath she wore a lacy white camisole, but no bra.

She knew House could see her nipples, hard and straining against the soft material, knew he could see their rosy hue. She heard him hiss softly as she pulled her hair through the neck of her scrubs, and dropped the garment to the floor. Her scrub pants were tied low to her hips, and she untied their string slowly, watching House watch her. His expression was pained, like this was too much for him to handle, but eager too, as if he'd wanted this for a long time, just this way.

Once the strings were untied, Cameron ran her fingers along her hips, slid her fingertips underneath the sides, and slowly slid them down her long shapely legs. She stepped out of them quickly, and then straitened up. House's grip on his cane was such that his right hand was completely white. She stood there in white bikini cut panties and her camisole, and she stepped closer to him again, waiting for him to reach out and touch her.

He met her eyes again suddenly, and she saw the doubt swimming in their teal depths. "Cameron…why are you doing this?"

She tilted her head to the side, and ran her hands down his torso. She felt how fast he was breathing, felt the racing of his heart. "Because I want to…and so do you." She raised her eyebrows as her right hand descended past his belt, and brushed over the bulge in his jeans.

Whatever internal struggle House had been fighting was sorely lost at that moment. He dropped his cane, cupped her face with his hands, and pressed his lips hard against hers. She let out a surprised yelp, and he deepened the kiss immediately, slipping his tongue past her lips.

Cameron's head spun as she tasted him – the sweetness of cherry from the lollipop he'd finished as he came onto the elevator, the slight bitter aftertaste of the Vicodin, and the warm provocative taste that was uniquely him. He was an expert at French kissing - his tongue would slide over hers, and the friction would be delicious, and then he'd pull back, leaving her wanting more before he slipped in again, deeper this time. Sometimes his tongue danced against hers, a tease, shallow and barely there, and then he would cock his head, and his tongue would slide deep inside her mouth, until she was light headed from the intensity of it. She pulled back suddenly and realized her hands had bunched up his shirt into two fists.

"God, god, god!" She whispered, trying to calm her heart, which was racing like a piston. She was supposed to be the one making him breathless, and after a few kisses, she could barely stand. She thought he would tease her about her outburst, but House was too busy, pressing burning kisses to her neck, running his hands up her torso, his long tapered fingers dancing over each of her ribs. His hands stopped just below her breasts, and hesitated. Cameron held her breath, waiting for his hands to move. She'd waited so long to feel his hands and mouth on her like this, and now they were here, and no one could interrupt them. If he would just move his hands a few more inches -

The main lights in the elevator suddenly flicked back on, the music started to play again, and they both froze.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Shiiiiit_." Cameron whispered with feeling, and then snatched her scrubs top off the ground. Once she had that over her head she frantically hopped into the pink pants. House discreetly adjusted himself and wiped his mouth, paranoid some of Cameron's lipstick may have been left behind. Cameron struggled into her lab coat, pawed at her hair, and then they both turned towards the elevator door, waiting for it to open.

There was a tense pause, and the doors stayed shut. Cameron frowned, "Elevator's not moving." House tapped his cane to a staccato beat, and bit his lower lip. This was a bit awkward. The power was back on, so logically, the elevator should be working again. They stood that way for another minute, before Cameron leaned over and pressed the emergency call button.

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?" She asked, and looked up at House, who hadn't budged an inch to get out of the way. Though it was Cameron who had invaded his personal space, he was the one being intimidating by looking down at her and not moving. Cameron narrowed her eyes at him and turned back towards the intercom.

"Hello! This is Dr. Cameron, I'm stuck in elevator -"

"Dr. Cameron?" The voice from before interrupted, "What seems to be the problem?"

"Yes, I'm stuck in an elevator, just below the third floor. The power has come back on, but we're not moving." She replied politely.

"I'm sorry to hear that Dr. Cameron, but unfortunately we have some other serious issues we're dealing with right now."

"Other serious issues?! Are you kidding me? We're stuck in an elevator! This thing could plummet, the oxygen could run out -" House yelled into the microphone, and Cameron frantically clapped her hands over his mouth, trying to control the damage. But it was too late - the maintenance man had hung up.

"Son of a!" Cameron cried, and punched House in the arm, "What the hell is wrong with you?! You don't berate the people who are going to save you!"

"He just has to press a button, reconnect a wire or something! It's not that hard!" House snapped back.

"You're crazy, you know that? You have serious mental issues." Cameron stepped back and ran her fingers through her long blond hair in frustration.

"Oh, come on! You're the pretty pretty princess of the hospital, there's no way Jim Bo is going to leave you in here for long."

Cameron turned and gave him a dark look, and started to pace back and forth. "If I was in here alone, sure, but I'm stuck in here with the hospital ogre!"

Cameron stood on the opposite side of the elevator, and took a few deep breaths to calm down.

"Differential diagnosis," House broke the silence, "Attractive woman in her twenties, presents with a sudden personality change, from irritatingly moralistic nag to emotionally detached Ice Queen. Go."

Cameron clenches her teeth, "Maybe she learned the hard way that people treat her with respect when she doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve."

House makes a face, "Not even close. She has fullofshititis. Somewhat rare, but it has been known to be transmitted by marsupials of the Australian outback – in particular, the wombat".

"Differential diagnosis!" Cameron hissed back, her hands clenched into angry fists, "Middle aged misogynistic genius, presents with the delusional belief that he's God's gift to women, but anytime a woman with a brain tries to get in his pants, he runs away like a scared little boy."

House glowered, his blue eyes wide with anger. "Obviously, since he's a genius, he knows that he can get off anytime he wants, and he doesn't have to get involved with an moody CareBear to get laid!"

Cameron covered the distance between them in two large steps, and got as close to him as she could without touching him. "Wrong! He has a raging inferiority complex! He thinks because he limps around the hospital like a wounded gazelle, everyone will pay attention to his physical handicap, and never catch on that he's just as crippled on inside."

"Sounds like someone you would go for, Dr. Cameron; you love broken men."

"Oh shut up! Just shut up with that same old line! If that was true I wouldn't be dating Chase. He's not broken, or dying of cancer, or anything else. You're wrong House, dead wrong."

Cameron's last word echoed as the lights and music suddenly died. But this time, the auxiliary lights did not come on. They were alone in the darkness.

"Do you think the hospitals back up generators went out?" Cameron's voice was low with worry. Without power, all of the machines necessary to keep patients in critical condition alive would stop working.

"No." House's gravelly timbre sounded sure, "they just cut power to non-critical areas of the hospital. Standard operating procedure in a blackout."

Cameron fell silent, surprised how comforting it was that House was there with her in the dark. Ass or not, the heat coming off his body, the way she could sense him in the dark, tall and solid in front of her, made her feel safe.

"House?" She whispered.

"Cameron?" House whispered back. She took a step forward, and pressed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his torso. Her right ear pressed against his chest, she listened to the steady beat of his heart.

A violent shiver caught her by surprise, and she squeezed him as tight as she could. She wanted him so badly it made her whole body hurt. And not just sex, though she certainly craved that.

No, Allison Cameron wanted all of Gregory House. His biting sarcasm, his puzzle obsessed brain, his flashing teal eyes – all of it. She wanted him to be there when she crawled into bed at night. She wanted him to be the one she clung to in the dark.

It was absolutely terrifying to her, how utterly and completely she'd lost her heart to him.

To her surprise, a moment later, House's arms wrapped around her, and his chin rested on the top her head.

Cameron grinned, and was suddenly grateful for the darkness; because he couldn't see just how happy she was he had hugged her back.


	3. Chapter 3

It took all of three minutes before Cameron started to feel guilty for the things she'd said to House. After battling with her conscience for another two minutes, she gave in.

"I'm sorry." Cameron murmured into House's chest, and he let out a long suffering sigh.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Never apologize, it's a sign of weakness."

"But I really am sorry! I shouldn't have-" Cameron's apology was cut short when House put his fingers in his ears and started chanting.

Frustrated, Cameron slid her icy cold hands up underneath the front of his shirt. House let out a surprised yelp (which he would later insist was actually a manly exclamation of surprise, not a yelp) and huffed. "Gah! Was your mother a penguin? Put your ice cold flippers away!"

Cameron laughed and warmed her hands under her own shirt, "I'm not sorry about that! Satisfied?"

"Not yet." House griped. Cameron grinned and reached out with her warmed hands, trying to find him in the dark. He heard her coming, and stepped to the left. "Not there." He said, and then quickly moved to the right as she followed his voice.

"Getting warmer..." He said a minute later from behind her, and Cameron decided she'd had enough of this game. She turned and lunged, and smacked right into the elevator doors.

"Ow!" Cameron cried, and suddenly House's hands were on her, checking her for injuries.

"Where does it hurt?" He asked, all business, as he felt the bones in her hands for any breaks.

"What are you, part cat? How can you see in the dark?" Cameron ignored his question. She wasn't really hurt, but she liked the gentle way he was checking touching her fingers.

"I can't see, but my hearing is phenomenal." House retorted, and ran his fingers over her face.

"Doesn't your hearing start to go in your forties?" Cameron asked, deadpan.

"I'll show you forties." He muttered darkly, and then she was pressed up against the cold elevator doors, with House's warm body was flush with her front, "I'll show you middle-aged." He found her lips with his in the dark, and there was no more banter.

Cameron's breath hitched as his scruff scraped against her chin, as his tongue slid into the wet warmth of her mouth. It was shocking, and a bit embarrassing how fast he could make her want him. One minute she could be furious with him, and then one intense look or slight touch later, and she was ready to beg for it. It was infuriating, but thrilling all the same. And two could play that game.

Her hands were warm when they snuck up his shirt this time. She ran up his firm stomach, thru the sparse hair on his chest, all the way up to his collarbone. She ran her fingers along it, smooth skin over the hard yet somewhat delicate bone. She wished it was her mouth just there, pressing a kiss to it. Instead, her hands came back down, and her left slid over his gun shot wound scar. She let her hand pause there, to trace the edges of the scar. She remember how scared she'd been that day, how helpless she'd felt when the gunman had raised his weapon again, fired again -

Those thoughts were washed away when House ground his hips against hers. He was certainly happy to be there. Cameron whimpered, and House playfully nipped her lower lip.

"House?" She asked, trying to clear her head for just a second. It was becoming increasingly difficult to form logical thoughts now, as House's hands were slowly traveling towards her breasts. She was still wearing her scrubs top, but she could feel the heat of his hands through her shirt.

"Mmm?" His hands reached their destination, and he didn't hesitate this time. His long fingers, so accomplished at playing the piano, barely brushed her nipples, which were aching and pressed hard against her top. She bit her bottom lip, waiting for him to touch her again, to sooth them. But he teased her again, brushing his fingers the opposite direction. "How far are we going...good GOD...to-to take this? What if...the p-power comes back?" Cameron managed to say, but then she didn't care what his answer would be, because her scrubs were behind held up in front of her face, and House's mouth, feverishly hot, was closing over her right nipple.

Cameron put her hands on the back of his neck, trying to keep his head where it was, and pushing away at the same time with her body. It was almost too intense, the feel of his scruff rubbing against the sensitive skin of her breasts, the scrape of his teeth, the merciless flick of his tongue. What was she forgetting? There was something really important she should be saying right now...but House was untying her pants, and sliding his hand down...

"Condoms!" Cameron yelled, suddenly remembering. House stopped, startled. "We don't have any."

House chuckled, and began to kiss his way down her abdomen, "Stop rushing me already. A man needs some romance."

"Hey, I'm serious." Cameron protested.

"I don't put out on the first date." He said, and blew softly into her belly button.

"If you're counting this as a date, then it's our third." Cameron corrected him, and she felt him smile against her stomach.

"No, it's our second. The non-date doesn't count."

"Fine! Have it your way. Second."

House's mouth was suddenly hovering over hers again, "Then I guess you'll have to wait till our third date to get in my pants."

Cameron kissed him sweetly, and then her hands started to undo the button fly of his jeans, "I hate to wait."


	4. Chapter 4

House's breath was harsh in her right ear. Cameron turned her head and pressed her mouth against the right side of his neck, over the scar where the gunman's second bullet had struck, and he groaned aloud. He had one hand pressed against the elevator door behind her for balance; the other was buried in her hair. His cane was resting against her leg, momentarily forgotten.

It was such a rush, so empowering for her to hear him so unguarded, so vulnerable. She wished she could see, wished she could watch the expressions flit across his face as she ran her hand up and down his hard length. But it was still pitch black, so it was just them - her hand, the feel his silken skin over throbbing muscle, the sound of his breath hitching one minute, and releasing in a shudder the next.

He was close now, she could tell by how hard he was in her hand, how desperate his grip felt on her hair, the way he held his breath for a few seconds before releasing it - he let out a ragged moan, so close so close -

The lights flicked back on. House and Cameron blinked, their pupils constricting so quickly it was painful, and difficult to see. The elevator car lurched up a second later, and House swore, turning his back to the doors and stuffing himself back into his pants as quickly as possible. His back was still turned when the doors opened on the third floor.

Cuddy and Wilson were standing on the other side of the doors, and while Wilson looked surprised to see them, Cuddy just looked pissed.

"Where the hell have you two been? The hospital is in chaos, the power keeps cutting on and off! We need every hand on deck!" She yelled, crossing her arms across her cleavage as House and Cameron stepped off the elevator.

"Aye aye, Cap'n!" House growled, and saluted Cuddy, "But we were stuck in that thar elevatorrr!"

Cuddy's response was an icy glare.

"Oh, and fire the head of maintenance - that guy is an asshole." House began to limp towards his office. Cuddy followed him, her stilettos clicking ominously on the shining floors.

"By that logic, I should have fired you years ago, House. Now, no more excuses, I need you and Cameron down in the ER helping out."

"Hell no. My leg hurts. I just had to stand in an elevator for two hours remember? I'm going to go sit down and take a few happy pills." Cuddy took a deep breath and launched into another offensive, and House continued to ignore her.

Cameron and Wilson were following a short ways behind them.

"So, stuck in an elevator for two hours with House, hmmm? I bet that was fun." Wilson gave her a warm smile, and Cameron laughed.

"He was delightful. Of course, we would have been saved earlier if he hadn't made the maintenance staff so angry."

Wilson nodded, and then his eyebrows drew together with concern, "Hey, are you okay? Your chin is red."

Cameron covered her chin, feeling a sudden sense of panic. It must have been from House's scruff scraping against her chin as they kissed, "Oh! I'm fine. When the lights went out, I walked into the wall and hit my chin, that's all."

Wilson was outright frowning now, "But it looks like a...like a carpet burn or..." Wilson's eyes were as round as saucers as he realized what it really was. "Oh my God! You kissed House!"

Cameron held her finger over her lips to shush him and motioned to Cuddy. Wilson waved his arms around with barely contained excitement, and his expression was demanding to know exactly what had happened, but they'd caught up to with the others at House's office. Wilson quickly collected himself as House sat down at his desk, took out two Vicodin, and quickly swallowed them. He stretched his legs up onto his desk, and looked at the group in front of him with raised eyebrows.

"Don't you doctors have some lives to go save?"

Cuddy stalked out of the office, vowing that he would do ten extra clinic hours this week, and his interns would not do it for him.

Wilson left next, reluctantly, shooting House a glance that let him know he would have to spill details later.

Cameron hesitated. What was going to happen now that they were out of the elevator? Was House going to pretend nothing happened? Say it was a mistake? While her mind ran in circles, House had opened a National Enquirer in his lap, and was studiously ignoring her. Cameron's heart sank like a rock, and she turned to leave.

"Cameron." House's deep voice rang out, and she froze. She turned, clinging to her last shred of hope. His blue eyes were lasers, pinning her to floor. "No goodbye kiss?"

Cameron swallowed and walked over to him slowly, and though he didn't move, his eyes stayed on her, a lion tracking its prey. She came around the side of his desk, and leaned over slowly, resting her hands on each side of his chair.

She kept eye contact for a minute, and then looked down at his mouth, watched as his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. She smiled and then softly pressed her lips to his. Pulling back, she watched as he lazily opened his eyes again.

"That was not a goodbye kiss." She said, and straitened. House frowned. "It was a see-you-later kiss." And with that, she walked out of the room, and House stared after her, thinking on the promise he'd seen in her moss colored eyes.

Cameron waited until she was out of his sight, and then she ran down the hall to the stairwell, a huge grin on her face, her heart filling her whole chest with a warm sparkling glow.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, life was back to normal at Princeton Plainsboro. House was on clinic duty when Wilson found him, and he was staring at an X-Ray with a huge grin on his face,

"You won't believe what this guy shoved up his-"

"Oh my God, is that a - ?" Wilson interrupted him, staring at the X-ray in horror.

"Yes, yes it is."

"Did it cause intestinal damage? I mean..."

"Nope, but its only coming out with surgery. I think I'll sell tickets. Everyone's gonna want to see this!" House wiggled his eyebrows.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "As fun as that sounds, we need to talk."

House shook his head and began limping for the door, "What we need is lunch! I'm starved. You're buying." Wilson followed, resigned.

In the cafeteria line, House took a hamburger with fries, an apple, and a milk carton. Wilson piled his plate high with salad, and grabbed a yogurt. He paid for their lunch while House limped over to a nearby table and started to dig into his high caloric meal.

Wilson sat and immediately started in on him, "House, you're just going to hurt her."

"She's a big girl, Jimmy." House said, chewing on a large chunk of hamburger.

"Cameron is a walking Hallmark card! You can't just have sex with her and then tell her to leave like she's a hooker. You know she's an after-sex cuddler.

House narrowed his eyes at Wilson, "First of all, we haven't had sex – yet. Second, how do you know she's a cuddler?"

Wilson sighed, "I haven't slept with her House, but it's painfully obvious. You'll have your fun and then she'll put on those doe eyes and beg you to stay, and you will, but you'll resent her for it. I give it a week, tops, and then you'll rain all over her parade."

House chugged his milk, and then started to dig into his fries. "I know you just live to be my conscience, Jimmy, but Cameron is the one who seduced me. I valiantly resisted as long as possible."

"Oh, come off it! She's in love with you - has been for years! And isn't she still dating Chase? You have to end it." Wilson insisted, his chocolate brown eyes dark with concern.

"I don't have to do anything. And don't sit over there like you're a paragon of virtue. I saw you flirting it up with Nurse Blonde and Busty the other day."

Wilson grit his teeth, "I'm not married anymore, I'm free to see who I please."

"I never got married, and I'm free to do whomever I please." House retorted.

Wilson threw up his hands, "Fine! But let the record state; I warned you."

Cameron was distracted. She was in a daze, floating on air, unable to focus on anything in front of her. She was completely useless in the ER today, and the nurses were starting to get irritated. It was only a matter of time before someone told Cuddy. So - she'd just have to detach. Be ruthlessly clinical, like House. No emotion, no daydreams. Concentrate on the medicine.

It was harder than she ever imagined, but somehow, she made it through the next ten hours without accidentally killing anyone.

At the end of her shift, Cameron was exhausted. She hadn't seen or spoken to House since yesterday, since the see-you-later kiss. Was he thinking of her at all? Should she visit him in his office? He might have a case. Maybe it was better for him to seek her out, then she'd look less desperate...but knowing House, he'd wait a ridiculously long time before his pride let him come to her.

Cameron retied her ponytail, wearily changed out of her scrubs, and pulled on a long sleeve red v-neck shirt, and dark blue jeans. She checked her make up in the mirror (light and tasteful, but sexy nonetheless) and put in some eye drops to chase away the redness in her eyes. She left the locker rooms, agonizing over what she should do.

She'd check and see if he had a case. Just walk down the hallway and maybe peek in to see if he busy, or even there. No harm in that. But what would she say?

Decided, she stopped in front of the glass door to his office. She could see he wasn't behind his desk or in his lounge chair. Her shoulders slumped with disappointment. She'd have to look all over the hospital to find him now, and that would be beyond pathetic, considering she didn't even know what she would say.

Maybe she could just wait in the conference room for a minute. She could see that the white board had several symptoms listed on it, in House's elegant handwriting. She stood in front of it with her arms crossed, trying to figure out what his patient had.

The door to the conference room suddenly burst open, and House limped into the room with his team following close behind. Cameron turned, and blushed when House gave her a knowing look. She turned quickly and went to the coffee machine, busying herself with making a new batch, trying to hide the redness in her cheeks. The ducklings sat down at the conference table, looking harried, and Foreman strolled in a minute later.

"So. Anyone have any idea what our patient is dying of yet? House looked to his team with irritation, and motioned towards the white board.

Taub spoke up first, "Could be lupus."

Cameron let out a small snort, and Foreman grinned. They both knew exactly how House was going to respond to that gem.

"It's never lupus!" House yelled, smacking the table with his cane. "And I'll give you a hint, its not silicone poisoning either, Dr. 90210."

Taub grit his teeth, "It was lupus three weeks ago! Why can't it be lupus now?"

"Because you're an idiot, that's why! Its not lupus. Go run a CBC, blood gas, and a PET scan." The ducklings scrambled from the room, and Foreman followed, shaking his head with amusement.

House looked over at Cameron while scribbling a large message on the white board that said IT'S NOT LUPUS, "I heard that snicker. If I recall correctly, you suggested lupus several times when you worked for me."

Cameron smirked at him, "Well, I learned my lesson. You know, now that that I don't work for you anymore, your torture techniques are sort of amusing."

"Careful, Dr. Cameron," House warned, "I still have the power to torture you."

"Try it and I'll write our initials in a heart on your whiteboard." Cameron laughed.

"Touch my markers, and you'll get spanked."

Cameron reached out and grabbed the marker from his hand, and raised an eyebrow in challenge. Before House could react, Wilson appeared at the door.

"Go away, Wilson." House said, taking a menacing step towards Cameron.

"Cameron, can I see you for a second?" Wilson asked, and stepped back outside the conference room.

"Don't go. He's just going to give you a lecture." House warned.

Cameron smiled, and handed him the marker, leaning into to whisper in his ear, "Go in your office, close the blinds, and when I get back, you can punish me."

House stared after her as she skirted around the table and out the door to meet with Wilson.

Wilson led her down the hall until they were out of hearing distance, "Listen, Cameron, I don't think this...thing...between you and House is such a good idea."

Cameron crossed her arms across her chest, "I appreciate your concern, Wilson, but I'll be fine."

"No, I'm not concerned about you. You survived your husband dying of cancer; I know you can handle whatever House will dish out. I'm worried about him."

"What? Why?" Cameron asked, utterly confused.

Wilson sighed, "Because I know exactly how this will go. It will be fun for a week or maybe even a month. He'll be almost happy. And then you'll do something like bring your toothbrush over, and he'll freak out. He'll say something cruel to make you leave, and you will."

"I think it will take more than a toothbrush to wreck this, Wilson."

"I'm not finished yet. You'll realize how stupid it was to fight over a toothbrush, and you'll come back, and he'll let you. And he'll convince himself this thing between you is only sex, no big deal. And then he'll start to fall for you. And you'll get tired of putting up with his crap and leave him; and he'll be a complete mess for months." Wilson's voice was grave, and tight with concern for his friend.

Cameron shook her head, "You may know what House will do, but you don't know what I'll do. I'm not Stacy."

Wilson rubbed his forehead in frustration, "Fine! Both of you ignore me, and in a few months, I'll have to pick up all the pieces."

"Or maybe there won't be any to pick up." Cameron replied, and turned on her heel, walking back to House's office. When she reached the door to his office and opened it, she looked back at Wilson, and watched as he walked away, looking more worried than she'd ever seen him.

And she thought, Please, please don't let him be right.


	6. Chapter 6

Cameron stepped into House's office, and leaned back against the door. The blinds were all drawn, and House sat at his desk, tossing his thinking ball in the air. She wondered if he had been thinking of her, or of his case. He glanced over at her, suddenly realizing she was in the room, and noticed her expression was bleak.

"Wilson does have that effect on people."

Cameron didn't laugh, or even smile. Was Wilson right? Would she be the one to hurt him in the end?

House was serious now, "That bad, huh?"

Cameron lifted and dropped her hands, a thoroughly helpless gesture, "He's your best friend, House. He's worried about you."

House narrowed his eyes, and stood slowly, "He's a master at manipulation, Cameron. His patients thank him when tells them they're going to die."

Cameron looked away, unable to meet his eyes. They were sharp, and probing, and she knew she couldn't hide anything she felt from him for long, "He thinks I'm going to hurt you."

House laughed, "This afternoon he told me to end this because I'd wreck your whole life. He's obviously playing us both."

Cameron sat down on his lounge chair, and buried her face in her hands. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. It was obvious she had been manipulated by Wilson, though she believed it had been done with the best of intentions, and it was also obvious that House was manipulating her now, "Are you over Stacy?"

"Are you over your dead husband?" House retorted and Cameron winced, "What does that have to do anything? Why can't we just have fun?"

"Because if this ends badly then - "

"Then, what? Everything ends badly. There are no happy endings."

Cameron sat back and looked at him, her eyes hooded with exhaustion, "Did you learn Persuasion 101 from the Devil himself? You are way too good at it."

House smiled and limped over to the easy chair, lowering himself onto the footstool in front of her with a wince.

"Please. The Devil took lessons from me."

Cameron eyes traveled over his familiar face, his body. Everything she ever wanted was sitting in front of her right now, and she was going to throw it away, just to save him some heartache on down the road? "I don't want to hurt you, House."

He tapped his cane on the floor, and looked down at his shoes. When he looked up again, he was angry, maybe with her, but probably with Wilson for being such a interfering ass, "You won't. But I'll definitely hurt you. So your choices are simple - do this and maybe go down in flames, or don't, and regret it."

Cameron thought about this for a minute, and then leaned forward. She ran her hand up his right leg, gently, so she wouldn't hurt him. He looked back at her with wide eyes - it had been a long time since anyone but he had touched his scar like this, even through clothing. She crawled down onto the floor in front of him, and ran her hands up his well muscled arms. But her touch was slow and sad, and not the frenzied heated groping he had been hoping for.

He shrugged her hands off of his arms, and grabbed her wrists, "So you're going to do this?"

Cameron nodded, and her heart was pounding so hard suddenly she worried he might hear it.

"Then let's do this." He said, and forced her to turn around. He yanked her shirt over her head, and Cameron shivered, cold and nervous. He leaned over and kissed the spot where her spine met her neck, and she jerked, surprised how good that felt. Her bra came next, and he pulled it off of her quickly, setting his teeth in her neck. He was taking out his anger with Wilson on her, and as he ran his hands down her sides, curling in to touch her stomach, and then sliding up to cover her breasts, Cameron decided she didn't care. He pulled her onto the footstool in between his legs, so her back was pressed against his front, and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

Cameron trembled as he played her like an instrument, his fingers running over her skin delicately at first and then pressing hard a moment later. He unhooked her pants at some point, and slid his right hand down into her panties. He whispered the most delicious words in her ear, telling her how wonderful she smells and tastes and feels, and its too much, the sound of his voice, the feel of his teeth on her neck and hot breath on her ear, the feel of his long fingers sliding over her in just the right spot, again, again, again –

Every muscle in her body seized at once, and House clapped his left hand over mouth to keep the entire floor from hearing her screams. It was a violent orgasm, but long lasting, it kept going as long as his hand moved. Cameron shuddered with the aftershocks, and gasped for air as he moved his hand away from her mouth. When she had calmed down, he wrapped both arms around her stomach, holding her tight, and kissed her neck again, gently this time.

"I've got a lot of work to do tonight. Have to figure out what's killing this guy before he actually dies. And you're exhausted." His words were dismissive, but his arms were still holding her tight, like he was reluctant to let her go.

"Tomorrow then." She said, and he slowly let his arms fall away.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Cameron was crying in the shower, her tears slipping down her cheeks and mingling with the warm rush of water from above. Two days into a relationship and she was already sobbing. It was a record even for her, and it would be funny if it weren't just pathetic. Wiping her face, she stepped out of the shower, and started to dry off. Who was she kidding? She couldn't be apathetic about sex with House. With Chase it had been easy, because though she liked him, she had never been in love with him. They'd broken up amicably almost two weeks ago. It must have been something about saving lives together, solving impossible puzzles, standing on a common ground - but once that was lost, and they worked in different parts of the hospital, their relationship dissipated.

But the longer she was away from House, the more she missed him.

She sat down on her bed in a towel, water running down her back in rivulets from her long blond hair, shaking. She'd made a terrible mistake.

Cameron was a machine the rest of the day. Cold, clinical, detached. It had been necessary to cut herself off from all emotion to make it through the day - she couldn't afford another day of mistakes. The nurses' faith was restored in her ability, though it was tenuous.

Sometime around five o'clock, she watched as Taub and 13 walked through the ER, talking excitedly about their newest diagnosis. Cameron closed her eyes as she pulled on her coat. She missed that glow of glory. The ER was too easy - gunshot wounds and nosebleeds and kidney stones. House was right, as always. She was an idiot.

Sighing, Cameron took her regrets and fled into the night.

Her escape was short lived.

"Dr. Cameron." House greeted her with a knowing grin, leaning against her car. That grin would literally be the end of her. He looked fantastic tonight - his blue eyes sparkling with victory, that wicked smile on his lips - he looked relaxed and utterly pleased with himself.

"I can't do this." She said immediately.

House raised his eyebrows curiously, but he didn't seem upset by her declaration, "Did Wilson talk to you again?"

"No, it isn't Wilson. I just can't do this." She was gripping her keys so tight they were cutting into her palm, but she didn't release her hold.

House examined her, ever the diagnostician. Always trying to solve the puzzle. In the end, he decided to go with the most obvious question, "Why not?"

"I can't be casual about this." Her smile was bitter, "You know that I like you." She walked towards the driver's side door and moved to unlock it, but House slid over and covered the lock.

"You think I don't like you?"

Cameron looked up at him, "I think you could replace me tomorrow with a hooker, and it wouldn't faze you the slightest bit."

House tapped his cane, "So, what, you want me to say I could never do that? And that I like you?"

"No! I want you to say what you really feel!" Cameron yelled, and then tried to push him aside so she could unlock her car.

House didn't even budge. He just leaned his cane against the car, took her face in his hands, and ran his thumbs over her cheeks. Cameron froze as he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, "Come to my place."

Cameron tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her, "I said, come to my place. I don't want to do this here."

She bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. Once she was at his place, she doubted she could leave if he put his mind to seducing her. But there was something different in his eyes now, something serious, so she decided to risk it.

The drive to his place passed in what felt like seconds. House unlocked his front door and they walked in. He pulled off his coat, hooked his cane over the front door's molding, and limped into the kitchen. Gathering her courage, Cameron walked around his apartment, taking in all the details she'd missed during previous visits. She stopped by his piano, and stared down at the shining keys.

House walked back into the room with two tumblers of whisky, and handed her one. They both took a sip. Cameron coughed, and House looked nervous.

"I'm going to play you something." He said simply, and handed her his tumbler. Cameron took it with a frown, and sat down on his couch. He wasn't declaring undying love, but she had a feeling he didn't play for just anyone.

She kicked off her shoes and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"I make up little songs for people I know. Well, to represent them. For instance, this is Chase," He said, and played a petulant ditty with an Australian melody. Cameron found herself smiling in spite of herself, "And here's Cuddy." His fingers danced over the keys, and his apartment filled with devilish but sexy notes, but Cameron could swear that somewhere in there she heard the Wicked Witch of the West's theme.

His eyes met hers, and then his expression grew serious, "This is me," His fingers slowed, and the music was in a low octave, full of bitterness, anguish, wrapped in despair. Cameron blinked away tears. He'd be angry if he saw her crying for him.

"And this one is you," He said, and suddenly he was playing in a high octave. The song was sweet and naïve, and though it was hopeful, it was also heart rending. It scared her, how well the song captured her.

He began to play his song again, along with hers, and her mouth dropped open as the two pieces merged into perfect harmony, coalescing into the saddest song she'd ever heard. But House surprised her - he ended it on a high note, a hopeful chord.

He dropped his hands into his lap as the music faded, and looked over at her, "And that was us."

They stared at each other for a minute, and then Cameron stood. She walked towards his bedroom, pulling off her shirt, and discarding it on floor. She looked back at him, and her eyes were full of promise.

House limped after her.


	8. Chapter 8

He was a study of contrasts, completely alien from any other man she'd been with. She hadn't been with many, but there was room for comparison. Take Chase for example. She had liked Chase, with his dirty blonde hair, pouty lips, his blue green eyes and aristocratic nose. But House was different. His face was longer, more angular, his eyes so blue and consuming in their regard that it hurt to look at him sometimes, and at other times, it was impossible to look away.

She traced her fingers over the small wrinkles around his eyes, and found she preferred them to smooth skin. She knew they were caused by pain, and also by age, but she thought of that as time past, as suffering endured. She realized House was right – that he wouldn't be as attractive to her if he wasn't so spectacularly damaged. And not because she wanted to fix him – he was wrong about that. He was wounded, so she could give parts of herself to him that she had never given anyone else. Because as he knew, she was a smoking wreckage too.

In her mind, she pictured the two of them as broken satellites, beyond repair, orbiting the planet in the deep freeze of space. And if the conditions were right, then they could come together, and somehow, their broken pieces would fit together, two matching pieces of an impossible puzzle.

"You are thinking waaaay too hard right now, considering you're half naked on my lap." House observed, kissing her lips between words.

Cameron smiled, burying her melancholy thoughts deep down, where he wouldn't see them with those piercing blue eyes of his, "I was just thinking how much better this is than it was with Chase."

"I don't want you thinking about the wombat right now, even if it is in my favor." He said, his voice gravelly, and he pushed her onto her back. Cameron let out a shriek, but stopped protesting when he pressed his lips to hers. He kept it soft at first, but it quickly escalated into something deep, rich, heady, and dark. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she didn't fight him when he pressed her hands above her head on his bed, and settled himself between her legs, keeping his weight off her with his left leg.

He pulled back, breathing heavy. 

"I've wanted to do this for a long time." Cameron said, running her fingers across his lips.

House grinned, "I know. I'm impossible to resist."

Cameron slapped his arm. "No, no, your line is, 'I've been dying to make love to you for _yeeears_, Dr. Cameron.'"

House chuckled and started to pull down the straps of her bra, "Okay, I've been dying to get in your pants for _yeaaaars_, Dr. Cameron."

Cameron rolled her eyes, and tickled him, in that spot close to his underarms. He pushed her hand away quickly, and paid her back by grinding his pelvis into hers, and taking her right nipple into his mouth. Cameron arched up into him with a frantic moan. She'd never done this with a man with a shadow of a beard before. She sighed, enjoying the sensation of his scruff scraping against her skin, while his hot mouth sucked. He pulled his head back after a minute, looked into her eyes, noticed they were partly glazed over, and gave her a Cheshire grin.

Cameron arched an eyebrow in challenge. 

His eyes widened, and then he got back to work. Cameron ran her hands down his bare back and slid them under the waist band of his jeans. God she loved those jeans on him. She struggled with the fly of his pants from this angle, but she didn't care, because all she could think about was how she had to touch him, had to feel the hardness he was pressing so tight against her now. He grunted as she succeeded, touching him through his boxer briefs one minute, and then wrapping her hand around him without the boxers the next. "Shit." He whispered, and moved back and forth in her hand.

"Get a condom." She demanded, and started to run her hand up and down him in earnest. He let out a harsh breath, and then pulled out of her reach.

"Slow down, woman, what's your rush?" He panted, and started to undo her jeans, keeping himself out of reach. Cameron let out a frustrated groan and pushed his hand away, standing up quickly to take off her jeans, remove her bra completely, and drop her underwear to the floor. She crawled onto the bed naked, and House blinked at her in surprise. She removed his pants and boxers with the same ruthlessness, and then crawled on his lap. She leaned over to the bedside table, grabbed a condom, and tore it open with practiced ease.

"Seriously, Cam, slow down. There's no hurry." House said nervously, but she was already rolling the condom on him, and he felt all other protests die in his throat. She held his face in her hands, and pressed feverish kisses to his lips. "I've been waiting almost four years for this, and I don't want to wait another minute." She lowered herself onto him slowly, inch by inch until he was inside her completely. House wrapped his arms around her tight; as if afraid she'd disappear. He pressed his forehead against her collarbone, and tried to say the alphabet in his head to keep from coming that very instant.

He'd never admit it to her, but he was thrilled to be exactly where he was right now. 

"You okay?" She asked, raining kisses down his neck.

"I'm fantastic, please don't move." He said quickly, and she laughed. Her laughter made the muscles around him clench, and he hissed. Okay, alphabet definitely not going to work. Must think unsexy things...that girl who used strawberry jelly as a lubricant instead of KY, that time he got shot, his grandmother, giving speeches..."Okay...okay, I'm good now."

Cameron did all the leg work, moving in circles, up and down, forward, and then backward faster, slower, shallow, deep, too many variations to count. House was clinging onto control by the skin of his teeth. When she started squeezing him with her inner muscles, and making the most erotic noises he'd ever heard a woman make, House thought he might actually die from this.

"Please tell me you're close." He begged her, his hands gripping her hips, trying to keep her still for one minute.

"Almost there, baby" She promised, and kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth. He put his left hand on her back, and slid his right down in between them, doing his best to speed things along. He was absolutely going to lose his dignity if she didn't finish soon, and if there was one golden rule he never broke during sex, it was that she comes first. No exceptions. Thankfully his fingers worked - she clenched around him like a vice and screamed, clutching onto him for dear life. He lost it completely and bucked, holding his breath and holding her tight as he came. He gasped for air at the end of it, and felt his heart stutter in his chest.

The both collapsed onto the bed, and groaned. The sweat on their skin cooled and dried, and they both dozed, unable to move. House finally got out of bed and cleaned up, bringing Cameron a warm wet washcloth to do the same. Cameron watched as he collapsed back into bed, obviously exhausted. Would ask her to leave soon? Should she make a move to leave first? Preserve her dignity?

House peeked at her from one open eyelid, saw the worried frown on her face, and sighed. He pulled her against him, in what some may call a spooning position, or a downright cuddle, but which he convinced himself was only a means to an end to wipe that frown off her face. He pulled the covers over the both of them, and settled in, resting his chin on the top of her head.

Cameron smiled and sank into the warmth of his arms. She closed her eyes and soon dreamt of two damaged satellites, coming together in the darkness; a perfect fit.


	9. Chapter 9

He was trapped in a nightmare. Somehow he could see, but he couldn't open his eyes. He tried to force his eyes open, tried to wake himself up, but it was too late. The lioness lying across his legs bit into his thigh. House screamed desperately as the lioness ate her fill, but he realized it was a silent scream – the only sound he could hear was the lioness's teeth sinking into his muscle. Satisfied, the lioness sat up, her large paws pressing into his stomach, and she let out a shrieking cry, while his blood pouring from her jaws. It was enough to wake him. House shot up in bed with a loud yell, soaked in sweat, gasping for air, already clutching his thigh in agony.

Cameron jerked and sat up in bed next to him when he yelled, and was instantly wide awake.

"Did you take your Vicodin?" Cameron's voice was full of concern. He grabbed the bottle from his bedside table, and tried to open it, but his hands were shaking so violently that he couldn't get it open. Cameron took it from his hands, opened it in record time, and handed him two pills. He swallowed them immediately, and took a few deep breaths, trying to outlast the pain. Five minutes, and he'd the inferno in his leg would calm. Just five more minutes.

Cameron couldn't stand just sitting there, listening to him whisper curse words and rock back and forth clutching his leg. She jumped out of bed, grabbed the t-shirt he had discarded earlier, pulled it over her head, and hurried into the living room where she'd left her purse earlier.

She took a small bottle of warming massage oil out of her bag, and stalked back to his room. It wasn't something she always had on her, but she knew that if they ever did have sex, his leg might suffer for it.

House didn't even notice Cameron bustling around; his vision had gone red with pain. All he could do was countdown the minutes, and wait for relief. Cameron went into the bathroom and threw two clean towels from his linen closet into the dryer, and then took another one back to the bed. She slid the towel under his leg gingerly.

"It's been seven minutes. The Vicodin isn't working." He said through gritted teeth, and she could tell he was about to lose it, "I have a box on top of the bookcase in the living room, there's a syringe of morphine inside."

"You don't need morphine, House." She said, and opened the bottle of warming liquid. It was cool, ironically, when it poured into her palm, so she warmed it by rubbing her hands together.

House slammed his fist down on his bedside table, and looked at her with wild, pain filled eyes, "Go get the goddamn morphine! A massage isn't going to do shit!"

"You just took two Vicodin! Morphine could kill you. Just take a deep breath. This will help." Cameron insisted, and put her hands on his scar. He jerked and hissed under her touch, and grabbed a pillow to squeeze in his arms. He shut his eyes and started listing the periodic table of elements in his head.

Cameron rubbed the muscle softly with oil slick hands, and felt the heat in his leg build from friction and the warming element. The muscle spasmed continuously, and it had to hurt like hell. She kept up the massage, adding more oil now and then, and soon it began to work. The muscle spasm calmed, and then abated, and House's body slowly relaxed in relief. Cameron stood, walked quickly to the bathroom and washed her hands, then took out one of the towels in the dryer. She brought it back to the bed and laid it across his leg, which was shining with oil. The heat from the massage oil and the towel was soothing, and the Vicodin had finally kicked in.

"Thank you." He croaked, and looked down at his leg. He was surprised how well her massage and the hot towel had worked. When the pain was that bad, morphine was the only thing that could help the pain. Then again, he'd never had anyone give him a massage when he was having a spasm; he just went strait for the narcotics. Cameron motioned for House to lie down flat, and he did. She fussed over him for a few more minutes, and pulled the towel out from underneath his leg. Within minutes, he was gently snoring.

Cameron smiled sadly, and replaced the towel on his leg with the other one from the dryer. House sighed happily in his sleep, and Cameron climbed back into bed, covering them both with the comforter.

She curled into a little ball, with her knees against her chest, and her hands in fists under her chin. It was two in the morning and pouring rain. The street light outside bathed House's face in pale yellow light, marred only by the squirming shadows of water running down the window pane. Unable to resist, Cameron reached out and ran her fingertips along his forehead, and watched as the lines there slowly disappeared as his face relaxed under her touch. She leaned in and kissed his temple, as softly as she could, so she wouldn't wake him up.

"Love you." She whispered, and he didn't even stir. The knowledge that he might never say those words back to her made her heart ache, and to protect herself, she would never say them when he was awake. But maybe a part of his brain would hear her as he slept, like a coma patient. Maybe he would wake up tomorrow, and unconsciously, he would know that there were people in this world that loved him. Shaking her head, she blinked away the tears that filled her eyes, because the selfish part of her wanted to hear the words from his lips anyway.

Later, when she was finally asleep, and her breathing was deep and even, House opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. One sound was repeating his mind; her soothing but lonely voice, whispering that she loved him, over and over again.


	10. Chapter 10

"_Brrrrriiiinnnnnggg!!!"_ The phone blared next to House's head, and he groaned. He briefly considered hurling the screeching object out of his window, but that would require him to get of bed. Instead, he turned over, grabbed the receiver, and croaked out a barely legible greeting. His cerulean blue eyes squinted at Cameron, who was pulling on her shirt from yesterday. Completely dressed, she crawled back onto the bed, careful to avoid his legs, and started to kiss his neck.

"Mom? Is that you? It's eight in the morning!" House cleared his throat, and buried his left hand in Cameron's freshly washed blonde hair. She'd been sneaky this morning and taken a shower before he woke up. He felt her smile against his neck, and then she brushed her lips across his. Their eyes remained open, locked on one another.

"_Greg, it's your father – he…he's had a heart attack. He's dead." _His mother's voice sobbed over the phone, and Cameron pulled back slowly. She'd heard everything.

"Let me call you back, Mom. I'll call you back, two minutes." He hung up, and stared at the beautiful girl on her knees in front of him, with tears shimming for him in her green doe eyes.

And then he asked her to leave.

For three days, House didn't come to work. He didn't call, and he didn't answer his phone. Cameron was starting to feel frantic. Was he okay? And was their relationship over, just like that?

Swallowing her pride, Cameron went to the one man who would know what was going on with House. She walked into Wilson's office without knocking. He looked up, surprised, and then his eyes went immediately to the suitcase leaning against the couch.

"Where is he? Is he alright?" She blurted out, her hands clenched into fists.

Wilson signed the chart in front of him, and then sighed. He so did not want to get in the middle of this, but it seemed he had no choice, "House is upstate with his family. The funeral is this afternoon – he's running low on Vicodin, and I told him I'd bring some."

Cameron frowned, "You could have just called in his prescription."

Wilson nodded, "I know. But then I wouldn't be able to see how he's holding up."

"He must be furious with you."

"He's pissed, but he'll get over it once he sees those little white pills." Wilson explained, and grabbed the handle to his suitcase.

Cameron stood in front of the door, blocking his exit, "I'm coming with you."

"That is not a good idea. In fact, that's a terrible idea."

"I just want to see him. I want to see that he's okay. I'll stay in the car! I won't even get out of the car." Cameron pleaded, and Wilson felt his will dissolve. She must have been really desperate to come to him. Hadn't he been the one who had warned her it would end badly? For God's sake, they'd barely started, and House already had her twisted in knots.

"Fine. But this is _so_ not a good idea."

They arrived at the funeral in progress. House was standing on the edge of the crowd, looking handsome, and bored, in a black suit. His shirt was actually ironed – no doubt his mother had done that for him. He was leaning heavily on his cane – it was painful to stand still for long periods of time. He was considering sitting down on a tombstone behind him when he heard the car pull up.

He looked behind him, and watched as Wilson got out of the car. His friend was wearing a black suit as well, and a somber expression. Then House noticed Cameron sitting in the car. She stayed where she was, and stared in his direction through black sunglasses.

Wilson came to stand next to him, and House held out his hand expectantly. Wilson dropped two Vicodin into House's outstretched palm, and House swallowed them, his face pinched with pain.

"Bold move, Jimmy." House muttered, glancing back at the car, "But I didn't even want you to come. Why the hell did you bring Cameron?" 

Wilson rubbed his forehead, "She took me hostage. I had no choice."

House rolled his eyes, "She weighs as much as a twelve year old. Even you could have overpowered her."

"My car has a weight limit. I had to choose between bringing her or a bucket of Vicodin, and she was cheaper." Wilson retorted.

On that note, the funeral ended, and House's mother approached them. She hugged her son, and then looked at Wilson with surprise.

"James!" She exclaimed, pleased to see her son's longtime friend, "Thank you for coming! I know Greg appreciates you being here."

"Oh, I'm thrilled." House replied, shooting Wilson a dark look. Wilson ignored it, and gave House's mother a hug, passing on his sincere condolences. House's mother's eyes filled with tears, and she kissed Wilson on the cheek, and then let her brother lead her back to the car.

House grunted in disgust, and limped towards Wilson's car. Wilson followed; genuinely worried that House would make a scene.

He surprised everyone by getting into the back seat behind Cameron, and waiting patiently for Wilson to drive him to his mother's house.

Wilson started to drive, and a thick, uncomfortable silence filled the car. House curled his left hand into a fist. It took everything bit of self control he had not to reach forward and wrap his arm around Cameron in the front scene. He could smell her fruity shampoo and all he wanted to do was bury his face into that smell, to lose himself in all that warm, impossibly soft skin.

Cameron turned in her seat, looking back at him, "Are you okay?"

He relaxed his hand, and avoided her gaze. She was wearing sunglasses, and that gave her an unfair advantage, "My leg hurts like hell."

"I was worried about you." Her voice was low with concern, and laced with pain. He knew he'd hurt her by not calling.

"Don't be. Once the Vicodin kicks in, I'll be just fine." He said, purposely misunderstanding her. Cameron shook her head and turned back around, facing front. House wished fervently that Wilson wasn't in the car with them. He would have had Cameron in the back seat by now, would be been ripping at her clothes to get to her skin, would have broken those goddamn sunglasses, would have fucked her until she begged him to stop. It was a short ride to House's mother's home, and Wilson parallel parked a few houses away. There were fifty or more cars up and down the street. Wilson turned and looked back at House, trying to gauge how he was feeling, "You ready for this?"

"You two can go home now, just give me the Vicodin." House said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Wilson narrowed his eyes, "Get out of the car. I need to talk to you. _Now_."

Wilson slammed his car door, and stalked over to a nearby tree, and waited for House to hobble over. House gave him a bored look when he got there, and immediately held out his hand.

"Do not do this right now, okay? I do not want to drive back home with Cameron crying in the passenger seat."

House grit his teeth, "Well you should have thought of that before you brought her. I didn't want her here for a reason, Wilson. Now give me the goddamn bottle."

Wilson was about to tell him to shove the Vicodin bottle up his ass when Cameron got out of the car. She stalked over towards them, and pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were slightly red, but she wasn't crying. She walked right up to House, and pressed a full bottle of pills into his left hand. Then she stood on tip toes, and kissed him, briefly, angrily, to the point. She bit his lip as she pulled away, and then took a step back.

"Enjoy your pills." And then she put her sunglasses back on, got back into the car, and waited for Wilson.

Wilson stared after her in surprise, "You know, I think I owe her an apology. She's a lot stronger than I thought."

He got into the car, and House watched as the two of them drove out of sight. He licked her lipstick, tinged with his blood, off his mouth.

It tasted like regret.


	11. Chapter 11

Five days since the funeral, five days since she'd seen House. Cameron was furious, and taking it out on her locker by repeatedly slamming it shut and the goddamn the piece of metal just wouldn't stay shut! Giving up, she sat down on the bench in front of the lockers and tried to calm down. _Damn him, damn him, damn him! _She cradled her head in her hands, wondering how the hell she was ever going to get that stupid locker door to stay closed, when she noticed an envelope by her feet. It had her name scrawled across it.

In House's handwriting. 

She bent over from her seat and picked it up with a trembling hand. _Please say this is not a Dear John letter_. It was absolutely pathetic, but she wasn't willing to give up on House yet. As angry as she was - and _oh boy was she pissed _- she still wanted to see him. She ripped the envelope open and removed a ticket, with a sticky note on it. She frowned. The note said,

**"It's for a good cause." - H**

Cameron removed the sticky, more confused than ever. Examining the ticket, she saw that it was for a charity concert, the New Jersey Symphonic Orchestra, to raise money for kids with cancer. Cameron sighed. House knew just how to play her. The event was black tie, so she would get to dress up, and it really was for a good cause.

Cameron smirked to as she shut her locker door, which was cooperating now that she wasn't trying to beat it into submission. The dress she was going to wear tonight was going to have House on his knees, begging for mercy.

She arrived at the concert hall in a black silk evening gown. It had a Grecian neckline (she had a small bust so she could get away with itand the skirt fell from under her breasts to her toes, clinging to her slight, but sleek curves. Her blonde hair was tied in a complicated updo. Cameron let the doorman take her coat, and spotted House by the bar. His eyes were glued to her as a he drank a glass of amber liquid in one gulp, and ordered another. The barman followed his gaze and asked House if the blonde was his daughter.

If it was possible for a look to do so, House's stare would have melted the flesh from the barman's face. Cameron felt a surge of protectiveness rush through her. It was a ridiculous feeling, because if anyone could flay another alive with words, it was Gregory House.

Still, Cameron sauntered up to the bar, her hips swaying enticingly under the black silk of her dress. House noticed her approach from his peripheral vision and turned to face her. She looked drop dead gorgeous tonight, like a goddess in the flesh, her pink shiny lipstick made him feel like growling, like devouring her whole. 

But Cameron was supposed to be pissed at him, so House didn't trust her brilliant smile. He wondered briefly if she was going to punch him.

Instead, she ran her right arm around his waist, leaned in, and kissed him full on the lips. It was long enough to convince everyone around that Cameron was most definitely not House's daughter, "Shall we go find out seats, Dr. House?"

House grinned. She'd even managed to throw it in the barman's face that he was a doctor. They left the bar without leaving a tip, and walked into the main seating area. House motioned for Cameron to enter the row first, and they both sat down, adjusting their garments. They were seated in the exact middle of the auditorium, and it was filling up fast.

House took a Vicodin, and looked over at Cameron awkwardly, not sure what to say. He had expected her to be angry, but there she sat, looking relaxed and almost aloof. And then she'd kissed him right away. Cameron noticed him staring at her and she touched his leg with her left hand, "How's your leg?"

House swallowed. Her hand was high up on his thigh, right over his scar, but it also happened to be positioned close to his groin, "Fine. My lip still hurts though."

Cameron looked surprised, and slightly guilty, "Did I really bite you that hard?"

House smirked, "No, but I keep irritating it with my tongue. I can't seem to help myself."

A pink glow came over cheeks, and House felt his stomach tighten. But as much as he wanted to keep her blushing, he wanted to know why she'd shown up more.

"Why did you come tonight?" He asked, blunt as ever.

Cameron looked back at the stage, watching the orchestra take their seats, "It was for a good cause."

House narrowed his eyes, "You're lying. You wouldn't come to a concert with someone you're furious at just because it's for a good cause. I'd already bought the ticket – the charity already had my money."

Cameron turned, and her look was grave, "I'm not a puzzle you're going to solve, House."

"If I had treated Stacy like I've treated you these past two weeks, she wouldn't even be speaking to me right now." House frowned, and rubbed his forehead.

"I'm not Stacy." Cameron replied, pink with anger now, "And being passive aggressive doesn't solve anything. So, yes, I'm pissed."

"So what are you going to do about it?" He asked, curious.

Cameron looked at her hands. She'd painted her nails in a French manicure, and they looked fabulous. But she didn't feel fabulous, "I don't know, okay? I'll probably forgive you before you deserve it."

She sounded so sad, and so lost, that it made House feel absurdly guilty. If he was the kind of person who apologized, he'd be pleading for forgiveness right now. Well, he wasn't going to apologize, no matter what she said, or how sad she looked. So he'd just have to find another way to get her to stop being angry with him.

He leaned over, as the lights began to go down, and whispered, "You look stunning tonight."

Cameron looked into his eyes, which were sapphire tonight thanks to the tie he was wearing, and put her hand on his thigh again, further up this time. She watched as House's pupils dilated, and his breath sped up. 

"Apologize, and you might get to take it off me tonight." Cameron whispered back.

The lights went down, the orchestra took the stage, but the two of them didn't move apart. House's look was intense. He never apologized. It was his rule. But she looked like Aphrodite herself in that dress, and she smelled like ambrosia, and his head was spinning with the possibilities. 

"I bet I can get you out of that dress tonight without apologizing." He challenged.

Cameron narrowed her eyes, and pulled her hand away, accepting. As Pachebel's _Canon in D_ filled the concert hall, Cameron tried to figure out what his next move would be. It would be cold day in hell before he got her naked tonight without apologizing. 

Intermission came, and House stood. He would have offered his hand to Cameron, but she was on his right side, and he needed his right arm for his cane. So he motioned for her to follow him with his eyes, and he limped out of the row. Cameron sat for a minute as he waited at the end of the row. What was his plan? He wouldn't try to get her naked here, surely. Head held high, she decided to follow. He probably just wanted another drink. 

As they walked into the lobby, House steered her to the right, towards the elevators. It took them to the second floor, and it opened to a hallway with restrooms, and a bank of telephones on the left. Each phone booth was separated by a violet curtain from the rest of the hallway for privacy.

Cameron started to become suspicious.

House pushed her gently into a telephone alcove, which Cameron was surprised to see was quite roomy. A soft glow lit up the small space, and House sat on the small cushioned bench provided, resting his cane against the opposite wall. Cameron stood in front of him, awkwardly.

House reached out and took her hand, pulling her closer. He spread his legs so she could stand between them. Cameron rested her hands on his shoulders, and promised herself that no matter how he looked at her with those gorgeous blue eyes, he was not going to get her out of her dress.

He leaned back against the wall and looked up at her, while running his hands up and down the smooth silk surrounding her waist, "Kiss me."

Cameron bent down slowly, and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth. Then she pulled back. House frowned, "Is that the best you can do?"

Piqued, Cameron pulled up her skirt, pushed his legs together with his knees, and straddled his lap. He gave her a wicked smile and she wiped it away by wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his, and kissing him with all the passion she'd been holding back. God he tasted good. He'd been drinking something with whisky in it at the bar when she'd come in, and it made he sink into the warmth of his mouth. It was heady, she was dizzy with it.

The intermission ended, and one of Cameron's favorite pieces began to play. _Thais: Meditation_, by Jule Massenet filled the small alcove, and combination of the pure romance of the song, and House's mouth and hands on was making her heart pound. She was quickly losing all semblance of control.

His hands, warm, dry, large in comparison with her small body, ran over her bare shoulders as he deepened the kiss, mimicking a more intimate act with his tongue in the sweetness of her mouth.

Cameron pulled away, gasping for air. It was all going too fast, she barely breathe, he was kissing her with practically no pauses, she couldn't get any air.

"No, no way are you getting me out of this dress without apologizing first!" She hissed, pushing at his chest with her hands. House ignored her and resumed his attack, starting with a soft kiss and deepening it immediately. His hands ran up and down her back in a soothing motion, lulling her back into complacency. God, the music was so sweet, the unbearably beautiful sigh and wail of the violin, and he was driving her crazy with that mouth of his…

She felt his fingers find the zipper to the back of her dress, and he slid it down swiftly. A second later he'd gathered the material of her dress in both hands, and pulled it up over her head, barely breaking their kiss.

And just like that, House had her completely naked on his lap. She hugged him, pressing her body against his, feeling vulnerable, and every bit as naked as she was. She blinked back tears, because he had won again, he always won.

"Damn you." She whispered fiercely, and he hugged her back in response.

"Just listen." He murmured, and she did, laying her head against his shoulder, feeling his heart beat, feeling the music all around her.

His hands were running up and down her back, and he began tracing patterns there, raising the hair on the back of her neck. And for a second, she could have sworn he traced s-o-r-r-y on her skin.

Then he pulled her dress back over her head, and zipped it. Cameron moved off of his lap, and they left the phone alcove together.

They got back on the elevator, and they both knew they were going home, to finish what they had started. The concert was forgotten now, her anger was past.

"Do you miss your father?" Cameron asked as they waited for their coats.

"No. He was…no, I don't miss him." House's voice was rough. Their eyes met, and in them, Cameron could see all the things he wouldn't say aloud.

Cameron pulled her coat around her, buttoning up, and then held out her right hand to his left, "Then he doesn't deserve to be missed."

House looked at her offering for a moment, and then took it, threading his fingers through hers. 

They left together, hand in hand.


	12. Chapter 12

Wilson was kicking House's ass at foosball in the break room, and House was not dealing with the loss well.

"You've been practicing!" House accused, face contorted with frustration, "That's against the rules! I'm busy saving _lives_; I don't have time to practice this stupid game."

Wilson snorted, "Busy, hah! You're busy watching General Hospital and avoiding clinic duty. You've had plenty of time to brush up on your foosball skills." 

"Its '_skillz_', Jimmy, learn the lingo!" House spat back, and threw his hands up in the air when Wilson scored again.

The door to the break room opened, interrupting their game, and Cuddy scuttled into the room.

"House, you were supposed to be in the clinic...forty minutes ago." Cuddy sighed, glancing at her watch. House cocked his head to the side.

"Do you smell that, Wilson?"

Wilson shook his head, but played along, knowing exactly where this was going, "No. Do _you_ smell something House?"

"I do, Jimmy! Is that a new perfume, Cuddy? _Eau de Fire and Brimstone_?" 

Cuddy rolled her eyes, "Hardy har har." Then she focused on Wilson, "I need to ask you a question."

"For the last time, Cuddy, he does not want to father your baby! Leave the poor man alone." House interjected.

Cuddy ignored him, "Wilson, is it true Dr. House and Dr. Cameron are dating?" 

Wilson's mouth dropped open, and he stuttered, at a complete loss for words. 

"Why aren't you asking me that?" House asked, perplexed.

"Is it true?" Cuddy countered.

"Do I need a lawyer present for this?" 

"No, but if you _are_ dating Dr. Cameron, you're required to report it to HR."

"Wilson hasn't reported any of his affairs to HR." House pointed out, and Wilson sputtered again.

"Fine!" Cuddy yelled, throwing up her hands, "But no sex at work! If I hear any hint of you having sex at work, I'll make you do double the clinic hours." She turned on her heel and left in a huff.

House looked over at Wilson, "Why aren't you married to her yet? Everyone's lives would be much more pleasant around here if that woman was getting laid on a regular basis."

"I'll get right on that. For the good of the people." Wilson's voice dripped with sarcasm.

With a satisfied nod, House limped over to the refrigerator, and pulled out a Tupperware container with his name on it. He started heating up his meal in the microwave, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

Wilson watched this suspiciously, "The only time I've ever seen you bring in your own lunch was when you stole mine."

House shrugged, "What are you, the lunch police? Its just leftovers." He pulled out the hot plastic container, and enthusiastically dug into its contents. He groaned with pleasure as he chewed. It was homemade pot roast, and it was just as good now as when Cameron had made it for dinner last night.

"Is that - is that _pot roast_? You don't know how to make that. You can barely heat up a pop tart." Wilson was amazed. House was not amused. 

"Cameron made it, okay? She even cleaned the dishes."

Wilson grinned back at him, "Then it's only a matter of time."

House suddenly frowned, "What are you chattering on about?" 

"Until you're completely whipped. Soon you'll be making _love_ to Cameron every night, and writing her little haiku poems."

"You're ruining this pot roast for me." House muttered, angry now.

"I bet it's too late already! Food will have no flavor unless Cameron lovingly makes it for you. And sex - ha! No more sex with hookers. They just won't_ do_ after the passion you've experienced with your one true love." 

"That's blasphemy. I could have you hanged for that." House warned, pointing at him menacingly. But nothing could ruin Wilson's mood now. He pointed back at House with his eyebrows raised knowingly, and then left, whistling all the way down the hall. 

A few hours later, House stopped in the ER to see Cameron. Her face lit up when she spotted him, but she looked exhausted and stressed out.

"Time to clock out, Dr. Cameron, and hit the road." House said, waiting for her to get ready to go, but she gave him an apologetic smile. 

"I can't. Two ER attendings called out sick tonight, and Cuddy asked me to cover their shifts, as a personal favor to her."

House's eyes widened, and then narrowed. "Oh, she is going to pay for that."

"Huh?" 

"Nothing. Never mind. So what time will you get out of here tonight? Its Saturday, you're young, you should be out getting laid." House said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Cameron laughed, "Sorry, Casanova, but I can't come over to play tonight. The relief shift comes in at three a.m."

A car crash victim came in through the emergency bay, and Cameron ran off to assist. House tapped his cane, and sulked for a minute, and then left for home. 

House ordered Chinese when he got home. He was determined to enjoy his first night alone in over a week. Since the concert, he and Cameron had been going at like rabbits, and it was a good thing he was getting a breather.

He did everything he could think of that he enjoyed - he watched three episodes of General Hospital he'd TiVo'd. Unfortunately, they weren't as fun to watch without Cameron there to sigh over the cheesy parts. Flipping through the channels, he found some soft core porn on HBO, but even that didn't peak his interest.

Music, that's what would entertain him. House limped over to his piano and started to play a few tunes, but his fingers kept drifting back to the diddy he'd composed for Cameron. Frustrated, he got up and started to pace the apartment. For some reason, his usual entertainments weren't working tonight. 

Wilson's words from earlier kept repeating in his head, _"No more sex with hookers...they just won't do..."  
_  
"We'll see about that, James Wilson." House muttered defiantly, dialing the escort service from memory. He placed his order quickly, and then resumed pacing. He felt a small twinge of guilt. Cameron was busting her ass in the ER all night, and he was ordering a hooker? Well it was just to prove Wilson wrong. He was not falling in love with Cameron. It was too ludicrous to even think about.

The doorbell rang, and House let the prostitute in. He realized with chagrin that he'd ordered one that looked a lot like Cameron - thin, pale, with long blond hair. Just a coincidence, that's what that was. 

He sat on the couch, and to his surprise, she tried to kiss him.

He pulled back, disgusted. The prostitute just shrugged, and got to work, pulling down his pants. House shut his eyes and tried to concentrate, but something was all wrong. The feel of her mouth wasn't a turn on, it made his skin crawl. Her smell invaded his nostrils, and made him nauseous –cigarettes and cheap perfume.

House squirmed uncomfortably; all of his skin itching. Finally, when he can't bear it anymore, he pushes her off, shoves money at her, and tells her to get the hell out. The prostitute leaves with another shrug, and once she's gone, House limps to the shower. He stays there for an abnormally long time, wishing for a Brillo pad to scrape away the skin she touched.

What the hell was wrong with him? He'd slept with a hundred prostitutes – and probably with that one before. Swallowing a Vicodin, he crawled into bed, and punched his pillow. 

Tomorrow, this bizarre mood would be gone, and everything would return to normal.

Two hours later, he was still tossing and turning. He couldn't sleep, no matter what he did. Warm milk didn't help; covering his face with the pillow to block out any light did nothing whatsoever. His sheets were scratchy, his leg was aching, and the pillow next to him smelled like Cameron's hair. He looked at the clock and groaned. 3:30 in the morning. If he wanted to be alive on his feet tomorrow, he had to actually get some sleep. He could try taking a few more Vicodin, but then he'd wake up with one hell of a hangover.

Letting out a frustrated yell, he got up, dressed as quickly as he could with the bum leg, and drove over to Cameron's apartment with a small overnight bag. _I'm just coming over to sleep_, he told himself, _it's just this weird mood_.

When he got to her front door, he leaned obnoxiously on the doorbell, and listened to it squawk angrily on the other side. A few moments later, the door opened, and Cameron stood before him, squinting in the sudden brightness. She looked bedraggled, exhausted, and irate. 

"What the _hell_, House?" She croaked, rubbing her eyes, and he returned her surprised look.

"What are you doing out of bed?" He asked, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Cameron stared at him, uncomprehendingly, "_What_?!" 

"Get back in bed - doctor's orders! Go on. Shoo!" House exclaimed, and bullied his way in the door.

Cameron gave up trying to understand him, and trudged back to her room, collapsing onto the bed. After a minute, she gathered the energy to move all of her limbs under the covers.

House tore off his jeans and t-shirt, undressed down to his boxers, and climbed into bed on her right side, forcing her to move over. Usually they slept naked together, but she had on pajamas, and he wasn't going to be the naked weirdo. He turned onto his left side, as it was easier on his leg, and curled himself around her. She smelled like strawberries and cream.

Cameron cocked an eye open and frowned. House was spooning her. He never did that.

"House?" 

"Shhh. Its time for sleepy sleep." He murmured. 

"You're cuddling with me. You hate to cuddle." 

"I'm not _cuddling_. You're warm, and it makes my leg feel better. Now go to sleep." He ordered, and nuzzled his face into her hair, letting out a contented sigh. 

Cameron grinned madly in the dark, and wondered if House, the veritable ice man himself, was starting to melt.


	13. Chapter 13

Cameron woke up early the next morning, nauseous. She hadn't had a chance to eat last night, and now she'd waited much too long. Her stomach roiled in pain, and she moaned. This had happened to her before – she just had to eat something small, to calm her stomach. 

She sat up and glanced over at House. He was sprawled across her bed like a ten year old boy. He always ended up like that in the mornings. Amused, she got up, and made her way towards the kitchen. She was glad she had her pajamas, becauseit was freezing cold in her apartment. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself, and walked towards the kitchen.

She yawned, and then tripped over House's overnight bag, which he'd dropped in the middle of the floor. Swearing, she steadied herself and picked up the bag. With an irritated grumble, she dropped it on the couch so she wouldn't trip over it again.

Dazed, she shuffled into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. She opened the fridge, searching for anything whatsoever that could be appetizing. Everything she saw made her stomach moan, so she decided to just wait out the nausea, and maybe drown it in some coffee.

House wouldn't be awake for another few hours, so she just went back into the living room. She sat on the couch next to House's bag, wrapping herself in a chenille blanket to keep warm, and turned on the TV. She flipped, in a bored fashion, until something caught her eye on Animal Planet. She put the channel on mute, and watching drowsily.

A buzzing sound came from the bag next to her. Cameron frowned and pulled House's cell phone from the side pocket of his overnight bag. She flipped it open, and saw a picture of Wilson, sleeping with his mouth open on the display. The name Jimmy Bean accompanied it. Cameron chuckled, and let the call go to voice mail. If it was really important, Wilson would keep calling.

Curious, she started to scroll through House's address book. What did he have her under? She supposed it was too much to hope for a cute pet name. She found herself under "CareBear" and there was a picture of her napping as well. At least her mouth wasn't hanging open.

She tried to back out of his address book, and found herself in his recent call list. The last outgoing call was last night, at around ten pm. She didn't recognize the number. Peeking over her shoulder to make sure House wasn't up and spying on her, she pressed call. A machine picked up on the third ring.

"_Thank you for calling Night of Your Dreams Escort Service. Our hours are-"_

Cameron hung up immediately, and stared at the phone in disbelief. At ten o clock last night, while she had been working a double shift, House had called an escort service. A hooker! He'd ordered a fucking hooker!

Cameron literally saw red, and her entire body shook with anger. After all she'd put up with from him, after all the times she'd stood by him, he went and did this? And then he'd had the nerve – _the fucking gall_ – to come over to her place and cuddle afterward?

Cameron stood up, clutching the phone in her hand, and stormed towards the bedroom. Without thinking, she hurled his phone at the headboard, and watched it smash into several pieces. House jerked awake at the noise, sitting up in bed.

"What the –" House looked around, confused.

"You ordered a hooker last night?!" Cameron yelled, pulling the covers off him.

House blinked at her, and then looked down at his broken phone, "Wait, you were spying on what phone calls I'd made?" He sounded incredulous, and picked up the pieces of his phone.

"You're disgusting!" Cameron spat, and tears started to flow down her face, "You couldn't go one night without a fuck? I'm busy so you order a _hooker_?!"

House stood up, and put his hand on the headboard to steady himself. He was seriously glad he was not naked right now, Cameron had murder in her eyes, "Yes, I got a hooker, okay? But-"

"No! It's _not_ okay. Get the hell out!" Cameron pushed him, sobbing, and then ran to her bathroom, slamming the door.

House ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and then limped over to his discarded clothes from the night before. He pulled on his jeans, and t-shirt, and popped a Vicodin. He was such an idiot. No way was she going to forgive him for this. And nothing had even happened! Well, okay maybe it sort of did, but it hadn't worked! House felt panic steal over him. Maybe he'd finally done the one thing that Cameron wouldn't forgive him for.

He limped over to the bathroom, and threw open the door. He was not going down without a fight. Cameron sat in her tub, in her pajamas, with her arms wrapped around her legs. She didn't even look up at him, though she started when the door hit the opposite wall.

She looked away, trying to hide the fact that she was crying, but House could see her shoulders shaking with muffled sobs.

"It was a mistake. But I didn't have sex with her. I told her to leave right after she came over."

"Don't lie to me!" Cameron yelled, and started to shake her head back and forth, "I'm such an idiot. I should have seen this coming! The second things start to get even the tiniest bit real, you have to go and destroy it."

"I told you, nothing happened! I'm not lying about that. I don't want some hooker, I want-" House stopped short.

Cameron looked at him. Her face was deathly pale, she looked broken, "You can't even say it now, can you?"

House sat on the lid of the toilet, and held her gaze, but didn't say anything.

She stood up suddenly, and stepped out of the tub. He leaned back, wondering if she was going to slap him. Instead, she took his face in her hands and kissed him hard. He could taste the saltiness of her tears on her lips, and it brought a strangled sound from his throat. She pulled back from the kiss abruptly, but kept her hands on his face, and stared into his eyes.

"I love you. And I _hate_ you" She whispered viciously, and then pushed away from him. She whirled, and hurried out of the room. Throwing on her sandals, coat, and grabbing her keys, she made a beeline for her car.

She slammed her car door shut, buckled up out of habit, and peeled away. She was going nowhere, but it didn't matter. She would go anywhere, as long as he wasn't there. Cameron bit her lip, remembering the look in his eyes when she admitted she loved him. He'd looked crushed. She hoped he was crushed. She hoped that if his fickle ice cold heart could feel anything whatsoever, he was in a lot of pain right now, the kind she was in, the kind pain killers couldn't touch.

She merged onto the highway, and it began to rain. She sped up as the cars in the right lane slowed, taking it up to ninety. She raced by everyone, sobbing uncontrollably.

She just had to get away, get away, get away.

The car hydroplaned, and Cameron realized how crazy she was acting. She slowed the car down, careful not to press too hard on the brakes. She was angry, not suicidal.

Then she heard a loud bang - the sound of her back right tire bursting. Her car fishtailed violently, and she slammed into the car beside her. The force caused her vehicle to ricochet, and then flip, tumbling horizontally. Cameron's forehead slammed hard onto the steering wheel, her airbag hadn't deployed.

She landed upside down in the highway median, a deep grassy ditch.

All her blood was rushing to, and from her head. Cameron watched with blurry vision as her blood, ruby red, pouring in a strait line onto the smashed windshield below her.

She realized that the radio had somehow turned on during the chaos, and Dave Matthews' bittersweet voice filled her car.

_You said always and forever  
Now I believe you baby  
You said always and forever  
Is such a long and lonely time…_

And then she didn't see her blood anymore, she saw House's eyes, that impossibly gorgeous Caribbean blue, sparkling back at her. And she saw he was mouthing her name.

Her heart wrenched in her chest, and a minute later, she saw nothing.


	14. Chapter 14

-1Wilson was in the clinic when he heard - a nurse ran by, shouting to another that Dr. Cameron was in the ER, she'd been in a car crash. He excused himself from his patient quickly, and ran to the ER. He watched as they wheeled her in, so small on the gurney. She was breathing, but there was blood everywhere. She had a severe head laceration, and she was unconscious.

After stabilizing her, the attending ordered her up for an emergency MRI, to see if she was hemorrhaging internally. The MRI revealed a bleed in her brain, and she was wheeled in for emergency surgery.

They stopped the bleed, and once she was in the ICU, Wilson remembered to page House.

He limped into the clinic thirty minutes later, royally pissed. Wilson was waiting in the front of the hospital for him, and he led House to the elevators.

"What the hell is the emergency?" House asked, rubbing his eyes. He looked exhausted. Wilson took a deep breath.

"Cameron was in a car accident. She's stable, but in the ICU. They fixed a bleed in her brain."

House stared at him, horrified. He knew Wilson wouldn't joke about something like this, but it was impossible to believe.

The doors opened, and let them out by the ICU. House looked up on the white board, and saw Dr. Allison Cameron written there, and that she was behind curtain three.

He rushed over, as fast as he could with his bum leg, and ripped the curtain aside.

Wilson stayed at the nurse's station, but he could hear House's quick exhale of breath, like someone had just punched him in the solar plexis. Cameron's small frame was dwarfed by the bed - tubes and wires running every which way, a large bandage wrapped around her head. There were purple bruises over every bit of skin exposed.

And she was unconscious.

House turned abruptly, and began to leave. Wilson stopped him, his expression a question.

"Page if anything changes." House said, and walked around his friend. Wilson started to follow, to protest, but House shot him a warning look over his shoulder. He just wanted to be left the hell alone. He just wanted to hide.

Three hours later, the page came. Cameron was conscious.

House takes his time getting to the ICU. His stomach is a ball of fear, he feels like he might be sick. When he gets to bay 3, he stands by the curtain, afraid to come closer. Cameron opens her eyes.

She turns her right hand over slowly, and opens it. An offering, a request. 

House hesitates, and then approaches, "Are you in any pain?"

She looks at him, standing there in full doctor mode, and lets out a ragged sigh, "Yes."

He nods, all business, and goes to her morphine drip to increase the dosage. Cameron's arm darted out and grabbed his, stopping him, "That isn't going to help." 

House realizes she's talking about emotional pain, not physical.

"House-" Cameron croaked, gripping his hand, her voice breaking, "I'm scared."

House pulls away, "Don't be. You're fine. You were bleeding into your brain, but its been resolved with surgery. You'll be fine in no time."

Cameron feels a chill come over her. He's acting like normal, like she's just another patient, "Where were you? When I first woke up?"

"In my office. I have a case."

Cameron felt anger rush through her. He was working on a case? She was in agony in the ICU, and he was playing his game boy and doing differential diagnosis?

"Why can't you just..." She couldn't get any more out. House had increased her morphine, and it was quick. 

When she was unconscious, House bent down and kissed her forehead, "I told you I'd hurt you."

When Cameron emerged from the morphine later that night, Foreman was sleeping in a chair he'd pulled into her area, and Chase was sitting next to her bed, holding her hand. She felt simultaneously glad to see him, and disappointed he isn't House. 

"Hey, you. You're awake." Chase said, smiling big, and squeezed her hand. Cameron managed to quirk her mouth into a something resembling a small smile.

"Good to see you too." She rasped back.

Foreman woke at the sound of her voice, and walked over to her bed, blinking away sleep. 

"You had us real worried about you for a minute there." He said, and rested his hand on her calf. 

"I'm fine. Do I have a really awful scar from the surgery?" She asked, and Foreman laughed.

"No, you're cool. They just drilled a tiny hole. Your hair will cover it up, no problem."

Cameron looked relieved, but then her face fell, "Where's House?"

Chase and Foreman exchanged a worried look. 

"Listen, Cameron, he's.…" Foreman started, and then shook his head, "He's totally lost his shit. He's upset, and taking it out on everyone. He made Taub cry. Like a girl." 

"You don't want to see him right now, seriously." Chase affirmed.

Cameron coughed, and winced, "Foreman, please ask him to come see me?"

She knew she couldn't trust Chase to make House come visit, but Foreman was a good friend. And he wasn't afraid of House.

Foreman sighed, "Alright, but the next time you'll see me, I'll probably be your neighbor." 

Cameron looked over at Chase when Foreman had left, and wished he would just let go of her hand and go away. He must have seen it in her face, because he stood up. He started to leave, and then paused.

"What is it about House? The guy's a jerk, and you love him no matter what." 

Cameron just looked away. She couldn't explain it. She just did.

She had just closed her eyes for a minute when she felt him come into her room. It was closer to half an hour later, but pain medication was funny that way. She opened her eyes slowly, and watched as he sat down in the chair Chase had vacated.

He looked haggard, exhausted, and depressed beyond reason. The only other time she'd seen him this bad was when he was detoxing. 

"You're not off your Vicodin, are you?" She asked, immediately concerned.

He laughed, bitterly. "No. Why are you asking how I'm doing? You're the one in the ICU."

She kept her eyes on him, never letting up, "You know why." 

He pressed the head of his cane into between his eyes, "You love me."

She was quiet for a minute, and her silence was an affirmation, "I didn't do this on purpose...if you were wondering that. My tire blew, and the rain on the road..."

A shudder went through him, and he seemed to relax slightly. He had been worried about that. "Good to know."

He was still so awkward. He couldn't meet her eyes, wouldn't reach out and touch her. And Cameron wanted him to touch her, so badly. Everything hurt, but for a delirious moment, she believed he could heal her every injury with those elegant hands.

"Why won't you touch me?" She asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

House gripped his cane tight. He felt like he'd just been stabbed in the chest. He wanted to touch her so badly it was taking every ounce of his self control not to. But he couldn't. He was a monster. This was his fault - if he hadn't ordered that goddamn hooker, then she wouldn't have fled the house, and driven in the rain on a bad tire, and almost died in a car accident. 

"I can't." He whispered, broken.

So Cameron reached out and touched him. She put her hand over his, but he still didn't look at her. He kept his face pointed at the floor. She reached further and touched the side of his head, running her hand in his hair. He made a strangled sound, and she watched as his hand started to shake.

"You can't dump me. I just had brain surgery." She murmured and he laughed again, harshly. 

"I'm an asshole - you think that would stop me?" He said, finally looking at her. She was shaken by the self loathing in his eyes, at the tears he'd blinked away. 

Cameron lurched up violently. House dropped his cane, shocked, and stood to make her lay back down. Cameron ripped her IV from her arm savagely, and blood started to pour down her arm. She ignored it, and grabbed House's arms, where he was trying to push her back down. She fought him, trying to get up, and he was shocked at how strong she was.

"What the hell are you doing?" He yelled, struggling to keep her in bed. But she was desperate beyond reason - clinging and hitting him at the same time, panting with exertion.

"Don't leave me! Don't do this! Please!" She shrieked, out of her mind, and ripped his shirt.

"Nurse! I need Adavan, stat!" He yelled out the room, and she continued to thrash. Cameron's breathing was becoming more and more labored. House looked up at her monitors and saw that her O2 stats were dropping sharply.

"Fuck!" He yelled, and pulled away, seizing an intubation kit. She was bleeding into her brain again, and it was causing respiratory arrest. He pulled the bed away from the wall as three nurses came rushing into the room. Two held down her legs, and the other prepared a syringe of Adavan. House maneuvered behind Cameron's bed, and lowered the head. Cameron's hands reached out, and grabbed his waist. He could see she was terrified - of not breathing, of being intubated, of him leaving.

He shook all that away and bent her head back gently, inserting the metal guide into her mouth. He looked through the scope as she gagged, and inserted the intubation tube. It was the fastest intubation he'd ever done, and he pulled the metal guide from her mouth.

"Hang in there, Cameron. I've got you. Here comes the oxygen." He soothed her, attaching a bag to the end of the tube. He pumped it at regular intervals, and she looked up at him, still conscious, and afraid. She kept her hold on him, and they stared into each other's eyes as he breathed for her.

Tears spilled from the sides of her eyes as a nurse pulled her right arm from House's waist, and reinserted the IV.

She felt the sedative take effect a minute later, but she fought it. The drugs started to pull her down, her left arm relaxed and fell away from him. Her eyes fluttered. Everything was going fuzzy, but she concentrated on his blue eyes, and heard him whispering something to her, loud enough so only she could hear.

"Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me…" He repeated, and she was pulled into the darkness, into a place with no dreams.


	15. Chapter 15

While Cameron was in emergency surgery again, House spent his time pacing the hospital gift shop. He wasn't going to sit a waiting room for the next few hours while his girlfriend had her head drilled again.

Frustrated, he walked over to the cashier, "Hi. Do you have something here that says, _I'm sorry for being a complete asshole and ordering a hooker to prove to myself that I don't need you, which caused you to get in a car crash and almost die_?"

The cashier stared at him, open mouthed, then sputtered, "A teddy bear might be nice."

House nodded, "Soft, cuddly, cute…she'll love it."

"You might try diamonds. It's worked for me before." Wilson suggested from the gift shop door.

House shot his friend a disgusted look, and picked out the cutest teddy bear he could find.

"Flowers might aid your cause." Wilson said. House paused by the refrigerator displaying flowers, and picked out a tasteful vase with white roses. He paid for his purchases and then shoved the flowers at Wilson to carry. House carried the bear, and they walked out together.

"So," Wilson coughed, "A hooker?"

"Yes, and it's all your fault. You should be grateful I'm still speaking to you." House muttered.

"Well, it goes without saying that its _my_ fault." Wilson replied.

"You said, and I quote, '_No more sex with hookers. They just won't do after the passion you've experienced with your one true love_.'"

"And you took that as what - a dare?"

"Nothing even happened." House grumbled back.

Wilson raised his eyebrows, "You couldn't get it up?"

"Cuddy!" House yelled, spotting his boss coming down the hall, "Wilson here would like to ask you a question!"

Cuddy made her way to them while Wilson looked at House incredulously.

House punched his friend in the shoulder, "Now's your chance, hot shot. Don't take no for an answer!"

When Cameron woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she no longer had the intubation tube down her throat. Relieved, she opened her eyes, and saw a teddy bear sitting in between her feet on the end of her bed. It was staring back at her with a cute fuzzy smile, and Cameron blinked at it. Was she hallucinating? Then she noticed House in her peripheral vision, sitting in a chair beside her bed. Yep, she was definitely seeing things.

"Good news! They fixed your brain again." House announced cheerfully.

Cameron had guessed that much, "What's with the bear?"

House leaned over and grabbed the fuzzy stuffed animal, and then shoved into Cameron's hands, "I saw him in the gift shop, and he reminded me of you so…"

Cameron touched the bear's paws, "Are my parents coming? Did anyone call them?"

"They should be here soon. Foreman called them yesterday."

"Are you going to disappear before they get here?"

House tilted his head, and considered it, "That depends. Is your father a large man?"

Cameron smirked at him, "You're afraid he'll punch you?"

"I've been punched four times this year already. I sort of like my face the way it is."

She took a deep breath, "You could just tell them you're my doctor."

House looked scandalized, "But that would be lying."

"Everybody lies, right?"

"Its immoral to lie to a patient's parents."

She laughed and then moaned, that had hurt. A nurse interrupted them by walking in with a steaming basin of water and a cheerful smile, "Time for your sponge bath, Dr. Cameron."

"You definitely need one." House teased Cameron. She stuck out her tongue, "I don't want one."

The nurse sighed, immediately aggravated, "Listen, love, don't make my job difficult, hmmm?"

"I'll do it." House offered, and the nurse's jaw hit the floor. House limped over and took the basin from the nurses hand, "Relax, Nurse Ratchett. I'm a doctor. I think I can handle giving a sponge bath." The nurse shook her head and left, muttering something under her breath about decency, and someone's lack of it.

House pulled the curtain closed for privacy, and then he looked back, shooting Cameron a lascivious look. She rolled her eyes, but was secretly pleased. House limped up back to her bed, and pulled her covers back slowly, keeping his eyes on hers. Cameron's heart started to race. Leave it to House to make an innocent sponge bath into something kinky. He pulled the wash cloth from the steaming basin, and squeezed out the excess water, then started at her feet. Cameron giggled, she was ticklish there. House wiggled his eyebrows at her and washed her other foot, wash in-between each of her toes because it made her squeal.

He dipped the washcloth again, and began to wash each of her calves, and Cameron started to relax. The feel of the warm water, the washcloth, and House's hands on her was heavenly. Then he pushed her gown up, gradually revealing her thighs. Their eyes met again as the warm cloth ran over her pale skin - they were both remembering all the nights she'd massaged his thigh for him. Taking a warm towel, he dried her off, and pulled her gown back down, careful to not upset her catheter. Cameron would have been embarrassed by it, but House didn't seem to care. He'd been in hospitals himself, everyone knew they were an irritating necessity.

House pulled her blanket up to her waist, and pulled her gown down from the neck to wash her torso. Her nipples hardened, exposed to the cold air, and House's eyes. He was more professional now though, no more teasing. Cameron closed her eyes as he washed each of her arms, and under them, then her breasts, stomach, collar, neck. She began to doze as he dried her, then snapped her gown closed. He stepped outside quickly to grab a warm blanket, and covered her up to her neck. By then Cameron's' breathing was steady and even, she was asleep.

House pushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear. He realized that he felt gratitude that she was alive. If he actually believed in God, he would have prayed at that moment, would have thanked the almighty for keeping Cameron earthbound. She looked so much like an angel, sleeping so peacefully, her long blond hair curled around her shoulders.

And then he felt those three words bubbling up inside him. Words he hadn't said for five years, not since Stacy. He should have forgotten how to say them, had sworn to himself that he'd never say them again, but there they were.

"Cameron," He whispered in her ear, "I lo-"

"_Oh! My poor girl_!" A high pitched voice shrieked from behind him. House jerked upright, and turned. Cameron's parents stood at the curtain, looking in on their daughter in horror.

House gathered himself, and then stepped forward, offering his hand, "Hi, I'm Gregory House, your daughter's….friend."

Cameron's recovery was slow, but steady. Her parents stayed in town for the duration of her stay in the ICU. They were by her side, every hour of every day, leaving only when visitor's hours were up and they were forced to go. Cameron was glad to see them, but she was relieved when they left. Her mother was high strung, and constantly worrying - the smallest thing sent her into a hysterical fit.

While they had been in town, House had been noticeably absent during the day. He would visit her late at night, when he was sure her parents were gone, always bringing some game with him. Cards, or chess, he would always make her play. To keep her brain in working order, he said, and she humored him. It must have been boring for him, because she was abysmal at cards and lost every game, and she always fell asleep half way through a chess match. But House didn't seem to mind, he just played both sides.

When he parents were finally gone, House visited several times a day. He came most mornings to avoid clinic duty (sending one of his trusty interns in his stead) and then again at 3pm to watch General Hospital in her room, and finally once again at night.

The afternoon before she was to be released, he limped into her hospital room, and ordered her to scoot over. Cameron's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she complied, shifting to the right so he could climb into bed. Then she grinned - usually when he came to watch his soap, he just sat in his recliner and put his feet up on her bed. Now he settled into her bed, laying back against the pillows. Cameron took the opportunity to duck under his arm, and lay her face against his chest. He stiffened for a second, and then relaxed, curling a strand of her hair absently around one finger.

Cameron listened the rhythmic beat of his heart, and enjoyed the feel of the steady rise and fall of his chest. She felt like purring, the warmth radiating from underneath his shirt felt fantastic - her room was always freezing.

"Okay, here we go!" House pointed at the screen excitedly, "The handsome doctor is going to tell the mother of the triplets he loves her."

Cameron snorted, "No way. He's going to choke. He always chokes."

House shushed her as the handsome doctor valiantly tried, and ultimately failed his mission.

House let out a groan, "Two years! Two years we've been waiting, and he blows it again. He'll totally lose her now."

Cameron looked up him, "Will he?"

House met her eyes, and they both knew she wasn't talking about the soap anymore.

"Well that's up to her. But he does, you know. Love her."

Cameron kept her eyes on his, "He's never said it."

House lowered his head and kissed her - their first kiss since the accident. She melted into his side, into his mouth, relishing the feel of being physical with him again. He pulled back, and she watched as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed nervously, "I love you. Now be quiet, the show is back on."

He looked back up at the TV, and Cameron rested her head against his chest again. She smiled. His heart was racing like a train.


	16. Chapter 16

Sex. 

Cameron had it on her mind, and House was not cooperating. He was forcing her to play yet another game of poker, and she was done, done, DONE. She made a half hearted attempt to finish the round, and House won again, crowing and raking in all of her chips. Cameron fell back into the sofa with a groan, "Please! No more games! Let there be no more games!"

House chuckled, "Someone's a sore loser. Do you want to watch TV?"

Cameron gave him a look. If she had to watch one more episode of General Hospital, she was going to lose her shit completely. She'd been out of the hospital for two weeks, and she was pretty much living at House's apartment for her home recovery. But he was down right tyrannical, and any activity more strenuous than watching TV or playing games was forbidden, supposedly for her own good.

He noticed her mutinous look and bit his lip, trying to think of something to entertain her, "We could play the piano – your _Chopsticks_ could use some work." Cameron sat up abruptly, and looked up and down his body, lingering on his lips, arms, and the bunch in his jeans. When she met his eyes again, House knew exactly what she wanted to do. He cleared his throat nervously, "You know, why don't you go take a nap? I have to catch up on some of these medical journals."

Cameron watched as he put on his reading glasses, and began to read The New England Journal of Medicine. There had to be something that would get his attention…

"Oh! I forgot to tell you. My family wants you to come over next week for dinner." She said suddenly, and House peered at her over the dark rims of his glasses.

"I can't go. I definitely have to have my teeth cleaned that day."

"It's a night."

"My dentist has an allergy to the sun. He can only see me at night."

Cameron snickered, "Nice try, but you're not weaseling your way out of this. All I hear from my dad is how fantastic my 'buddy Greg' is." She dropped her voice at the end to imitate her father. 

House made a face, "It sounds weird when you say my first name."

Cameron crawled towards him on the couch, "You don't like it when I call you Greg? Gregory? The Gregster?" 

"Ugh. You want me to start calling you Allison?" 

Cameron wrinkled her nose, "You sound like my _Dad_." 

"We certainly don't want that." House shuddered. 

She sighed, "Do you want a pet name then? Snookems? Muffin? Pookie?"

House put down his journal and grabbed her, tickling her in all the right spots. She squealed, and he laughed, "Call me those and I'll tickle you 'til you cry. Though I don't mind it when you call me 'baby' when we're – "

House stopped abruptly, and Cameron bit her lip. She definitely wanted him to finish that sentence. Clearing his throat again, more forcefully this time, he fumbled for the medical journal. He did his best to look studious as she got to her knees beside him. She leaned over, and peeked over his shoulder, pretending to read.

House's eyes fluttered. She smelled like strawberries, ripe, delicious, just right for plucking…He shook his head, interrupting that dangerous train of thought, "Do you mind? That's kind of distracting." 

"I'm distracting you? I'm sorry." She said innocently, but she didn't look sorry. When he resumed reading, she began kissing his neck. She felt him shudder – his neck was one of his sweet spots. 

"Cam. Stop that. I'm trying to concentrate."

"Anything you say..._baby_." And she blew lightly in his ear. House threw the journal down and took off the glasses. Cameron grinned victoriously and waited for him to throw her down and ravish her.

Instead, "We're not having sex."

Cameron pouted immediately, "Why not?" 

"You're not ready yet. Your brain might explode. And brains are icky - I don't want them on me."

Her response was to pull of her shirt and drop it on the coffee table. Her bra was peach, with lace trim, and completely sheer. House's eyes bugged and his mouth dropped open. "_You are evil_." He breathed.

"Come on, House. You're not a gentleman. You're a bad boy, remember? So be bad." And she climbed onto his lap, careful of his right leg.

House valiantly tried to ignore her breasts, and shook his head mulishly, "No. I don't care how much you beg, we're not having sex until we get the okay from your doctor."

"But you're a doctor. I'm sure if anything goes wrong, you'll be able to fix it." Cameron cajoled him, nipping his lips. When he didn't stop her, she pressed her advantage, and kissed him in earnest. She didn't stop until he was breathing hard, and a certain part of his anatomy was pressed hard against her thigh. 

"Right." He panted, "I'll just MacGuyver together a sterile operating room in case you need more brain surgery. No problem."

She started to pull up his shirt, but he stopped her, batting away her wandering hands, "No means no, woman!"

Seeing that he was not going to give in, Cameron huffed, got up, and retreated into the bedroom, muttering darkly.

House leaned his head back against the couch and sighed. Try to do the right thing, and it always came back to bite you in the ass.

Half an hour later, House's curiosity got the best of him. Cameron had been awfully quiet in the bedroom. He tip-toed down the hallway to his room, as well as he could, using the walls for support.

She was in bed, leaning against the headboard with her eyes closed, listening to her iPod. A bra and matching panties were the only articles of clothing on her body, and House turned, biting his fist. Fuck, but she was making it difficult to be a good guy. Unable to help himself, he peeked into the room again.

Cameron opened her eyes suddenly, and caught him staring. She took off her iPod, and dropped it to the floor, then got to her knees and crawled to the edge of the bed with feline grace. She tilted her head, "Wanna cuddle?"

"Yeah, right, I'm not falling for that." House said, but came into the room anyway. He leaned against the door, shutting it. He stared at her, drinking in every inch of delicious skin exposed to him. It was okay to look, as long as he didn't touch.

"You want me to beg for it?" She quirked an eyebrow, and crawled off the end of his bed. Walking over to where he stood, she pressed her body full against his, and breathed against his lips, "Is that what you want?"

House put his hands behind his back and pressed them hard into the door, "I want you to take a nap."

Cameron narrowed her eyes in challenge, and then fell to her knees. She unbuckled his pants quickly, pulling hard to unhook it, and then unbuttoned his jeans. God but she loved these jeans on him. They drove her nuts. She tried to unzip him, but House freed his hands and bent forward, grabbing her arms. He pulled her to her feet, and pushed her back toward the bed, "Why can't you just take no for an answer?"

"Because it's been five weeks since we last had sex, and I'm done waiting." Cameron answered haughtily, and let out a surprised yelp when she managed to back them up into the bed. She fell back and pulled him on top of her.

Wrapping her long legs around his waist, she pinned him, and started to kiss his neck again, knowing that would drive him crazy. She was right; he rocked his pelvis hard against hers when she bit the skin over his jugular.

"Alright! You win. But we do this slowly." He said, struggling to keep his breathing even. Cameron sighed happily, and arched up against him, rubbing herself against his hardness. He tried to raise his hips off her, but she kept her legs wrapped tight. Trapped, he tried to calm her down with kisses. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, he felt her legs relax.

He reared up, trying to free himself, but she realized what he was doing, and rolled them, careful of his leg. He blinked up at her, surprised. She was stronger than she looked, and he didn't want to hurt her, so he couldn't too much strength to stop her.

Realizing she was in total control now, she grinned and yanked down his pants and boxer briefs.

"Hey!" He cried incredulously, but she didn't even pause. She pulled her panties aside, gripped him with her right hand, and slid down onto him with a long moan. House cursed, and used his arms to scoot them back against the headboard. He didn't like be lying down completely when she was on top, it made him feel vulnerable.

Cameron cupped his face and attacked his mouth with kisses, barely stopping for breath. She slid up and down on him as fast as she could, and he fought her, trying to slow her down by gripping her hips with both hands. She countered him by grabbing his hands and putting them on her breasts.

He tried to move his hands back to her hips, and she realized she had to slow down for a minute to get what she wanted from him. She stopped abruptly, on a down stroke so he was as deep as he could be inside her, and ratcheted back on her kisses so her tongue lingered in his mouth, caressing his in a slow dance.

She pulled his hands back up to her breasts and whimpered into his mouth, a wordless plea for him to do what he did so well. House gave in, reaching around her back to unhook her bra.

Cameron could never get enough of the way he touched her breasts. He never groped, or squeezed, or bounced them, or did any of those other irritating moves so many of her previous lovers had used. He never treated her breasts like they were his playthings.

His long warm fingers ran along the sides of her breasts first, and they grew firmer and swelled slightly when he cupped them with both hands. He made sure to avoid her nipples, keeping his caresses to her impossibly soft skin instead, until he knew she was dying for him to touch them.

When he sensed she was desperate, House brushed his fingers across her nipples, once, twice, three times, and each time a jolt of pleasure would center where they were joined together.

When she started to whimper, House leaned forward and took her right nipple in his mouth. He teased the left with his hand, and it drove her wild, the feel of his scruff against her sensitive skin, the scrape of his teeth, and the delicious torture of his tongue and finger tips. Sensing she was close, House ground his pubic bone against her, and then moved inside her, faster and faster, increasing the intensity until she broke.

Cameron let out a sharp cry, which escalated to a scream, and clutched at House's shoulders, her body jerking violently with the orgasm, her inner muscles contracting hard around him. House came a second later, holding his breath until it was the rush of blood was too intense to bear. Then he let out a ragged cry, and buried his face in between her breasts, wrapping his arms tight around her torso, losing himself utterly and completely.

Cameron collapsed against his chest, burying her face in his neck, breathing hard. Their hearts both raced, beating in competing tempos against one another's chests. With a self satisfied sigh, Cameron laughed, "I win."

"Good thing I'm not a sore loser." House grinned, and pulled the covers up over their heads.


	17. Chapter 17

Time passed, and both Cameron and House ignored the giant hooker elephant in the room. House pretended the whole debacle with the prostitute never happened, and Cameron racked her brain to find a way to make him talk about it.

But they were getting along so well since she'd come home from the hospital that she was reluctant to start what promised to be a knock down drag out fight.

And then one night, she simply couldn't bear the silence anymore. She was sitting on the couch with House watching yet another episode of New Yankee Workshop. He'd had two glasses of whisky, and was steadily working on his third. Sometimes he used alcohol to self medicate, though he was careful to take less Vicodin when he did, since that time Wilson had found him lying in a puddle of his own vomit.

House turned and grinned at Cameron – for some reason he thought New Yankee Workshop was hysterical, and the whisky was making it even funnier. She suspected he was just waiting for Norm Abram to cut off his hand. Cameron leaned closer to House, peering into his eyes. His pupils were dilated, and he was blinking a lot – he was definitely drunk.

"I really like your golden hair," He slurred, and ran his hand through her locks.

"Because it makes me look like a hooker?" She asked, and House walked blindly into the trap she had neatly sprung for him.

"Your dye job is a lot better than a hooker's. The last one had terrible roots." He said, and hiccupped softly.

"Oh, you mean the hooker you cheated on me with?" Cameron asked, and House realized his mistake. His smile faded, and she watched as he tried to think of a way out.

"I just said your hair was pretty."

"Just tell me what happened. I won't be angry." Cameron coaxed, but her arms were crossed across her chest.

House winced, "You're clenching. You know I hate it when you clench."

"I hate it when you cheat on me with hookers!" Cameron countered.

House stood abruptly, swayed for a second, and then hobbled to the kitchen for a refill. He definitely needed to be a lot drunker for this conversation. He tried to pour more whisky into his glass, but he missed it completely and poured it in the sink. With a shrug, he just took a large swig from the bottle.

"Look - ," he said, turning, and jumped when he saw her right behind him, "Gah! What are you, a ninja? I didn't even hear you come in the kitchen."

"Maybe that's because you're drunk." Cameron gritted her teeth, and tried to take the bottle from his hand. He leaned against the counter and gave her an inebriated grin, holding the bottle high above her head.

"You're right, I am drunk. Definitely not a time for important conversations. Let's try something more fun, hmmm?" He put the bottle on the top of the refrigerator, and pulled her against him, burying his face in her neck.

"Stop it! I'm not playing games." Cameron grunted, trying to push his arms off her. He just held her tighter, and pressed his groin against her stomach. He was happy to be there.

"You smell sooooo good, you know that? Like strawberries, all the time. It makes me crazy." He pulled back and kissed her mouth. He reeked of whisky, and normally she wouldn't mind, but tonight it was pissing her off.

"Did _she_ smell like strawberries? Did you take her to your bedroom and fuck _her_?" Cameron hissed and he let her go, abruptly.

"I didn't fuck her, alright? You are so bitchy tonight." He complained, and grabbed the bottle of whisky again. He took another large swig.

Cameron grabbed the bottle from his hand, now that his guard was down, and ran from the room.

"Hey!" He said incredulously, and then and hobbled over to his cane so he could chase her. By the time he made it to the bathroom, she'd poured the rest of the liquor down the toilet. He looked at her, horrified first, and then royally pissed off.

"Mixing Vicodin and alcohol can cause kidney damage." She stated coldly, and threw the empty bottle in his trashcan.

"Bitch!" He swore, and limped back into his bedroom.

Cameron came after him, "And you're a selfish bastard. How would you like it if I cheated on you? How about I invite Chase over, and then not tell you what happened? How would you like that?"

House sat down on the bed, and glared at her. She was really pushing all of his buttons tonight, "I wouldn't care! Go have a grand old time with the wombat."

"Tell me what you did!" Cameron cried, and tears started to pour down her cheeks. She swiped at them furiously - she hated that she cried when she got really angry, but she couldn't seem to help it.

"She went down on me! Are you happy now?!" He yelled back and threw his cane to the floor. He lurched to the bedside table, and grabbed his bottle of Vicodin. Cameron attacked him, quickly wrenching the pill bottle from his hand. She tried to back up, but he grabbed her arm. He did not mess around when it came to his Vicodin.

"Give it back." He demanded, and pulled her onto the bed. He was strong, much stronger than her, and he wasn't being careful now that he was drunk – she'd have bruises around her wrists the next morning for sure.

"Hell no, I'm not going to let you overdose!" She wrenched her hand from his and hurled the pill bottle across the room. It bounced off the wall and rolled under his dresser.

House pressed her entire body down onto the bed with his, and pinned her hands. Now that he knew she wasn't going to flush his Vicodin, he was calming down. He just had to make her stay still for a minute, and listen.

"The hooker didn't mean anything. I couldn't even keep it up for her. So just drop it." He panted.

"Why did you do it?" She asked, and tears seeped out the side of her eyes. She hated fighting with him like this. It was violent, and messy, and it never ended well. Part of her just wanted this to be over. To just leave this apartment and never come back, and leave all his bullshit behind.

But she was crazy in love with him, and a larger part of her brain told her it liked the position they were in – normally she was on top when things got physical, but she loved it whenever he took control. That part wanted to forget about the damn hooker and just have angry sex with him.

"Any reason I give won't make it okay." He said, and she heard the regret in his voice. And he was right; there was nothing he could say that would make it alright. Not even an apology would erase what had happened.

And at that moment, Cameron decided it didn't matter. She believed him when he said it meant nothing. And she forgave him. She would have to, or else this wouldn't work. House would always do something insane and unforgivable and she would always have to keep forgive him - until the day she couldn't anymore.

House started to get up, and Cameron felt fear spear through her. It could have ended, just then. And it could end, at any minute. Maybe he would get tired of her constant pushing, maybe he would leave her.

She grabbed his shirt and yanked him back down on top of her. Her mouth met his in a desperate kiss, and pushed all that fear at him, tried to make him feel how much she wanted this to work. She didn't want this to end, she needed it to much, needed him too much.

He broke the kiss, gasping for air, "What are you doing?"

"Fuck me. Right now. Don't ask any questions." She demanded, and started fumbling with his pants.

Her frowned down at her, and tried to stop her hands, "Have you lost your _mind_? You were just ready to claw my eyes out, and now you want to have sex?"

"Shut up, please, and just do it!" She gave up on his pants and yanked on his shirt. He blinked rapidly and tried to focus on her face, but her hands were everywhere, and his clothes kept coming off. This was switching directions way too fast for him. He was waaay to drunk to navigate this minefield.

"You're not making any sense –" He tried to protest again.

Cameron let out a frustrated scream, "For the love of God! Just show me you want me more than that slut! Please!"

**To be continued…..**


	18. Chapter 18

**Continued...**

Cameron groaned with frustration. They'd been making out for ten minutes, heavy petting and all, and House couldn't seem to get it up. Half a bottle of Jim Beam will do that to a person, but it was driving Cameron nuts. She wanted him inside her so bad she couldn't think strait, and it was just not working.

"Baby, what can I do to help?" She asked, kissing his neck feverishly. A fine sweat had broken out all over his body and he was breathing hard. She felt his heart pounding against her chest.

"Nothing. I just need a minute. Just give me a minute." He said and rolled off her, panting. It had to be a hundred degrees in the bedroom, he was dying. He took a few deep breaths - the room was spinning off kilter, like he was on some sort of twisted carnival ride, "How many Vicodin did I take today?"

"You need to get in the shower." Cameron said, immediately worried. She stood and grabbed his arms, trying to pull him upright.

"Ugh. I'm not sweating _that_ badly." He replied, irritated, and she wrapped her arms around his moist torso, dragging him to his feet. It was hard work - very hard - but she managed to get him into the bathroom. He froze at the threshold, "Stop moving, I might throw up."

Now Cameron was sweating. House was seriously heavy when he was leaning on her. Her legs trembled under the strain, but after a minute he let her move again, and she helped him step into the shower/tub combo. She grabbed the wooden shower seat he used as a book rest, and set it down in the shower. The last time he had used it was when he was recovering from his leg surgery, and was too weak to stand in the shower. Cameron ordered him to sit, and he did, begrudgingly.

Cameron quickly removed the rest of her clothes, hurling them onto the floor. Then she stepped into the shower, turned on the water, and took the first freezing cold blast of water on her back before it stabilized to a reasonable temperature. She moved to the left when it the water was cool, but not cold, and let the majority of it fall on House. He wrapped his arms around her torso, and pressed his face into her abdomen.

The cool water seemed to sober him up a bit. House sighed - the cooler water felt heavenly on his overheated skin. He was still nauseous as hell, but that would surely pass.

Getting back to the task at hand, House started to kiss Cameron's stomach. She laughed - his scruff was ticklish. Man did he love the smooth lines of her waist, the way her torso led into her hips with a graceful curve. He kissed her hipbones, and she let out a small sigh.

The foreplay stopped abruptly when House clutched at her – the room was spinning hard. His stomach cramped violently.

"Shit." He whispered, and bent over, vomiting all over the floor of the shower. Cameron squealed with surprise, and got out as quickly as she could. Luckily he was just puking up whisky, so it was washing down the drain with no problem. Cameron wrapped her wet body in a towel, then went back and comforted House as he continued to be sick. She rubbed his back and winced every time his abdominals spasmed with another round.

When he was finally done, he leaned back and moaned, utterly miserable. It had been a long time since he'd been that violently ill.

Cameron moved quickly, turning off the shower, and then helping him out. His entire body was shaking, from being sick, and from the combination of alcohol and pain pills. Cameron made him lean against a wall so he would stay standing, and she grabbed another towel, briskly drying him off.

"Gotta brush my teeth." He insisted, and Cameron groaned inwardly. She was going to be seriously sore tomorrow from practically carrying him all over the place. After he was done brushing his teeth, and when by some miracle Cameron's legs didn't collapse underneath her, she led him to the bed and tucked him in.

"Stay here, I'm going to clean up the bathroom." She said. After rinsing out the bottom of the shower, she got back in, naked, and scrubbed the floor with a brush and some all purpose bleach cleaner. When the shower was finally clean, Cameron rinsed off her feet again, and got out. 

When she was finally ready for bed, Cameron turned off the light to the bathroom, and climbed in to bed next to House. She leaned against the headboard, and he turned, burying his face in her torso. He wrapped his arms around her like she was a pillow, and she ran her fingers through his hair. She knew it was comfort to him, she felt him slowly relax.

House moaned into Cameron's stomach, and hoped he wouldn't get sick again. He'd never felt more pathetic in his life. Not only had he been unable to get it up - a singular humiliation he hadn't known since right after his operation - he'd also vomited his guts out all over Cameron. He felt a strange urge to cry, but choked that back - he wasn't _that_ wretched. He wanted to apologize profusely for puking on her toes and being so useless that she had to clean up his mess, but he couldn't seem to get the words past his lips.

"Thank you for cleaning that up." He said instead, and then he felt his stomach clench in agony again. "Fuck!" He cried, and turned over quickly, grabbing the trashcan near the bed. Cameron rubbed his back as he dry heaved, and then put one cool hand on his forehead and shoulder. House was grateful for that - his brain feel like it was on fire.

When the sickness passed, they both collapsed back. House moaned into his pillow, and Cameron curled around him, kissing his temple, and running her fingers through his hair and over his scalp, over and over again until she felt his muscles ease up. 

"Thanks again," He sighed, and she leaned over him to turn off the bedside lamp. The shades were drawn, so the darkness enveloped them.

"No need to thank me." She whispered, "You take care of me, and I take care of you." 

"I hope I didn't just destroy our sex life." He muttered in response. 

"_Tomorrow is another day_!" Cameron drawled in a perfect imitation of Scarlett O'Hara.

"You would look seriously cute in one of those old Southern gowns, you know. I don't deserve you." He murmured, and though he wasn't making much sense, Cameron knew what he was trying to say.

"You _don't_ deserve me. But I love you, so you're stuck with me anyway." 

And for once, the thought of being stuck with someone, of being in love with someone, in love with Cameron, didn't scare him. She might be the only woman on the planet who had enough forgiveness in her to deal with him. But she was no pushover - she wasn't afraid to fight for what she wanted, or tear him to bits if he screwed up.

_Maybe this wouldn't end so badly after all_, he thought, and fell asleep with Cameron holding him in her arms.

**Fin**.


End file.
